The Lingariad
by bubblegum12899
Summary: Long ago, a Storyteller claimed, the evil god Ganondorf drove men and Gods to war. But Geapora the Sorcerer led men to reclaim the Triforce that protected men of the West. So long as it lay at Windfall, the prophecy went, men would be safe. But Link did not believe in such stories. Brought up on a quiet farm by his Aunt Im, how could he know that the maimed God would soon awaken...
1. Book 1 Prologue

Hey guys. Just to begin with again I'm only doing this once but if you recognize the name and story of this it is what you think it is and I own squat of this. Nothing not the characters or really the base of the story. I claim no rights I'm just doing this for the sake of it. Whoever David Eddings gave the rights to owns the story and probably half the characters I use. The other half belongs to Nindendo. I will try my best not to fully copy the story but I make no promises. All the goddesses that appear also are now gods.

Prologue

Being a History of the War of the Gods and the Acts of Geapora the Sorcerer - adapted from The Book of Hylian

When the world was new, the seven Gods dwelt in harmony, and the races of man were as one people. Hyla, the youngest of the Gods, was beloved by the Hylians. he abode with them and cherished them, and they prospered in his care. The other Gods also gathered peoples about the, and each God cherished his own people.

By Hyla's eldest brother, Deku, was God over no people. He dwelt apart from men and Gods, until the day that a vagrant child sought him out. Deku accepted the child as his discuple and called him Geapora. Geapora earned the secret of the Will and the Word and became a sorcerer. In the years that followed, others also sought out the solitary God. They joined in brotherhood to learn at the feet of Deku, and time did not touch them.

Now it happened that Deku took up a stone the shape of a triangle, no larger than the heart of a child, and he turned the stone in his hand until it became a living soul. The power of the living jewel, which men called the Triforce, was very great, and Deku worked wonders with it.

Of all the Gods, Ganondorf was the most beautiful, and his people were the Gerudo. They burned sacrifices before him, calling him Lord of Lords, and Ganondorf found the smell of sacrifice and the words of adoration sweet. The day came, however, when he heard of the Triforce, and from that moment he knew no peace.

Finally in a dissembling guise, he went to Deku. "My brother," he said, "it is not fitting that thou shouldst absent thyself from our company and counsel. Put aside this jewel which hath seduced thy mind from our fellowship."

Deku looked into his brother's soul and rebuked him. "Why lost thou seek lordship and dominion, Ganondorf? Is not Gerudo enough for thee? Do not in thy pride seek to possess the Orb, lest it slay thee."

Great was Ganondorf's shame at the words or Deku, and he raised his hand and smote his brother. Taking the jewel, he fled.

The other Gods besought Ganondorf to return the Orb, but he would not. Then the races of man rose up and came against the hosts of the Gerudo and made war on them. The wards of the Gods and of men raged across the land until, near the high places of Colossus, Ganondorf raised the Triforce and forced its will to join with his to split the earth asunder. The mountains were cast down, and the sea came in. But Hyla and Deku joined their wills and set limits upon the sea. The races of man, however, were separated one from the others, and the Gods also.

Now when Ganondorf raised the Triforce against the earth, its mother, it awoke and began to glow with a holy flame. The face of Ganondorf was seared by the golden fire. In pain he cast down the mountains; in anguish he cracked open the earth; in agony he let in the sea. His left hand flared and burned to ashes, the flesh on the side of his face melted like wax, and his left eye boiled in its socket. With a great cry, he cast himself into the sea to quench the burning, but his anguish was without end.

When Ganondorf rose from the water, his right side was still fair, but his left was burned and scarred hideously by the fire of the Triforce. In endless pain, he led his people away to the east, where they build a great city on the plains of Gerudoa, which they called Yoru no Machi, City of Night, for Ganondorf hid his maiming in darkness. The Gerudos raised an iron tower for their God and placed the Triforce in and iron cask in the topmost chamber. Often Ganondorf stood before the cask, then fled weeping, lest his yearning to look on the Triforce overpower him and he perish utterly.

The centuries rolled past in the lands of the Gerudo, and the came to call their maimed God Kal-Ganondorf, both King and God.

Hyla had taken the Hylians to the north. Of all the men, they were the most hardy and warlike, and Hyla put eternal hatred for the Gerudo in their hearts. With cruel swords and axes they ranged the north, even the fields of eternal ice, seeking a way to their ancient enemies.

Thus it was until the time when Eldin Bear-shoulders greatest king of the Hylians, traveled to the Vale of Deku to seek out Geapora the Sorcerer. "The way to the north is open," he said. "The signs and the auguries are propitious. Now is the time ripe for us to discover the way to the City of Night and regain the Triforce from One-eye."

Telma, wife of Geapora, was great with child, and he was reluctant to leave her. But Eldin prevailed. They stole away one night to join Eldin's sons, Lan Bull-Neck, Faron Fleet-foot, and Lina Iron-grip.

Cruel winter gripped the northland, and moors glittered beneath the stars with frost and steel-gray ice. To seek out their way, Geapora cast an enchantment and took the shape of a great wolf. On silent feet, he slunk through the snow-floored forests where the trees cracked and shattered in the sundering cold. Grim frost silvered the ruff and shoulders of the wolf, and ever after the hair and beard of Geapora were silver.

Through the snow and mist they crossed into Gerudoa and came at last to Yoru no Machi. Finding a secret way into the city, Geapora led them to the foot of the iron tower. Silently they climbed the rusted stairs which has known no step for twenty centuries. Fearfully they passed through the chamber where Ganondorf tossed in pain-haunted slumber, his maimed face hidden by a steel mash. Stealthily they crept past the sleeping God in the smoldering darkness and came at last to the chamber where lay the iron cask in which rested the living Triforce.

Eldin motioned for Geapora to take the Triforce, but Geapora refused. "I many not touch it," he said, "lest it destroy me. Once it welcomed the touch of man or God, but its will hardened when Ganondorf raised it against its mother. It will not be used so again. It reads our souls. Only one without ill intent, who is pure enough to take it and convey it in peril of his life, with no thought of power or possession may touch it now."

"What man has no ill intent in the silence of his soul?" Eldin asked. But Lina Iron-grip opened the cask and took up the Triforce. Its fire shone through his fingers, but he was not burned.

"So be it, Eldin," Geapora said. "Your youngest son is pure. It shall be his fate and the fate of all who follow him to bear the Triforce and protect it." And Geapora sighed, knowing the burden he had placed upon Lina.

"Then his brothers and I will sustain him," Eldin said, "for so long as this fate is upon him."

Lina muffled the Triforce in his cloak and hid it beneath his tunic. They crept again through the chambers of the maimed God, down the rusted stairs, along the secret way to the gates of the city, and into the wasteland beyond.

Soon after, Ganondorf awoke and went as always into the Chamber of the Triforce. But the cask stood open, and the Triforce was gone. Horrible was the wrath of Kal-Ganondorf. Taking his great sword, he went down from the iron tower and turned and smote it once, and the tower fell. To the Gerudo he cried out in a voice of thunder. "Because you have become indolent and unwatchful and have let a thief steal that for which I paid so dear, I will break your city and drive you forth. Gerudo shall wander the earth until Hi no toraianguru, triangle of fire, is returned to me." Then he cast down the City of Night in ruins and drove the hosts of the Gerudo into the wilderness. Yoru no Machi was no more.

Three leagues to the north, Geapora heard the wailing from the city and knew that Ganondorf had awakened. "Now will he come after us," he said, "and only the power of the Triforce can save us. When the hosts are upon us, Iron-grip, take the Triforce and hold it so they may see it."

The hosts of the Gerudo came, with Ganondorf himself in the forefront, but Lina held forth the Triforce so that the maimed God and his hosts might behold it. The Triforce knew its enemy. Its hatred flamed anew, and the sky became alight with its fury. Ganondorf cried out and turned away. The front ranks of the Gerudo hosts were consumed by fire, and the rest fled in terror.

Thus Geapora and his companions escaped from Gerudoa and passed again through the marches of the north, bearing the Triforce once more into the Kingdoms of the West.

Now the Gods, knowing all that had passed, held council, and Deku advised them, "If we raise war again upon our brother Ganondorf, our strife will destroy the world. Thus we must absent ourselves from the world so that our brother may not find us. No longer in flesh, but in spirit only may we remain to guide and protect our people. For the world's sake it must be so. In the day we war again, the world will be unmade."

The Gods wept that they must depart. But Farore, Bull-God of the Labryins, asked, "In our absence, shall not Ganondorf have dominion?"

"Not so." Deku replied, "So long as the Triforce remains with the line of Lina Iron-grip, Ganondorf shall not prevail."

So it was that the Gods departed, and only Ganondorf remained. But the knowledge that the Triforce in the hands of Lina denied him dominion cankered his soul.

Then Geapora spoke with Eldin and his sons. "Here we must part, to guard the Triforce and to prepare against the coming of Ganondorf. Let each turn aside as I have instructed and make preparations."

"We will Geapora," vowed Eldin Bear-shoulders. "From this day, Hyrule is no more, but the Hylians will deny dominion to Ganondorf as long as on Hylian remains."

Geapora raised his face. "Hear me, Ganondorf One-eye," he cried. "The golden Triforce is secure against thee, and thou shalt not prevail against it. In the day that thou come against us, I shall raise war against thee. I will maintain watch upon thee by day and by night and will abide against they coming, even to the end of days."

In the wastelands of Gerudoa, Kal-Ganondorf heard the voice of Geapora and smote about him him fury, for he knew that the golden Triforce was forever beyond his reach.

Then Eldin embraced his sons and turned away, to see them never again. Lan went north and dwelt in the lands drained by the River Mira. He built a city at Lan Tor and called his land Lanaryu. And he and his descendants stood athwart the northern marches and denied them to the enemy. Faron when south with his people and found horses on the broad plains drained by the Deku River. The horses they tamed and learned to ride for the first time in the history of man, mounted warriors appeared. Their country they called Faron, and they became nomads, following their herds. Eldin returned sadly to Val Hyla and renamed what was left of his kingdom Eldin, for now he was alone and without sons. Grimly he built tall ships of war to patrol the seas and deny them to the enemy.

Upon the bearer of the Triforce, however, fell the burden of the longest journey. Taking his people, Lina went to the west coast of Ordona. There he built ships, and he and his people crossed to the Isle of Winds. They burned their ships and built a fortress and a walled city around it. The city they called Windfall and the fortress the Hall of the Windfall King. Then Hyla, God of the Hylians, caused two iron starts to fall from the sky. Lina took up the stars and forged a blade from one and a hilt from the other, setting the Triforce upon it as a pommel, that held the two large parts together. So large was the sword that none but Lina could wield it. In the wasteland of Gerudoa, Kal-Ganondorf felt in his sould the forging of the sword and he tasted fear for the first time.

The sword was set against the black rock that stood at the back of Lina's throne, with the Triforce at the highest point, and the sword joined to the rock so that none but Riva could remove it. The Triforce burned with warm fire when Lina sat upon the throne. And when he took down his sword and raised it, it became a great tongue of warm fire, but it did not burn him.

The greatest wonder of all was the marking of Lina's heir. In each generation, one child in the line of Lina bore upon the back of his right hand, the mark of the Triforce. The child so marked was taken to the throne chamber, and his hand was placed upon the Triforce, so that it might know him. With each infant touch, the Triforce waxed in brilliance, and the bond between the golden Triforce and the line of Lina became stronger with each joining.

After Geapora had parted from his companions, he hastened to the Vale of Deku. But there he found that Telma, his wide, had borne twin daughters and then had died. In sorrow he named the elder Impa. Her hair was dark as the raven's wing. In the fashion of sorcerers, he stretched forth his hand to lay it upon her brow, and a single lock at her forehead turned frost-white at his touch. Then he was throubled, for the white lock was the mark of the sorcerers, and Impa was the first female child to be so marked.

His second daughter, fair-skinned and golden-haired, was unmarked. He called her Telpora, and he and her dark-haired sister loved her beyond all else and contended with each other for her affection.

Now when Impa and Telpora had reached their sixteenth year, the Spirit of Deku came to Geapora in a dream, saying, "My beloved disciple, I would join they house with the house of the guardian of the Triforce. Choose, therefore, which of they daughters thou wilt give to the Windfall King to be his wife and the mother of his line, for in that line lies the hope the world, against which the dark power of Ganondorf may nor prevail."

In the deep silence of his soul, Geapora was tempted to choose Impa. But, knowing the burden which lay upon the Windfall King, he sent Telpora instead, and wept when she was gone. Impa wept also, long and bitterly, knowing that her sister must fade and die. In time, however, they comforted each other and came at least to know each other.

They joined their powers to keep watch over Ganondorf. And some men say that they abide still, keeping their vigil through all the uncounted centuries.


	2. Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 1

_**Ordona**_

_Chapter 1_

The first thing the boy Link remembered was the kitchen at Bo's farm. For all the rest of his life he had a special warm feeling for kitchens and those peculiar sounds and smells that seemed somehow to combine into a bustling seriousness that had to do with love, food, comfort, security and above all, home. No matter how high Link rose in his life, he never forgot that all his memories began in that kitchen.

The kitchen at Bo's farm was a large, low-beamed room filled with ovens and kettles and great spits that turned slowly in cavern-like arched fireplaces. There were long, heavy worktables where bread was kneaded into loaves and chickens were cut up and carrots and celery were diced with quick, crisp rocking movements on long, curved knives. When Link was very small, he played under those tables and soon learned to keep his fingers and toes from under the feet of the kitchen helpers who worked around the,. And sometimes in the late afternoons when he grew tired, he would lie in a corner and stare into one of the flickering fires that gleamed and reflected back from the hundred polished pots and knives and long-handled spoons that hung from pegs along the whitewashed walls, and bemused, he would drift off into sleep in perfect peace and harmony with all the world around him.

The center of the kitchen and everything that happened there was Aunt Im. She seemed somehow to be able to be everywhere at once. The finishing touch that plumped a goose in its roasting pan or deftly shaped a rising loaf or garnished a smoking ham fresh from the ovens was always hers. Though there were several others who worked in the kitchen, no loaf, stew, soup, roast, or vegetable ever went out of it if it had not been touched at least once by Aunt Im. She knew by smell, taste or some higher instinct what each dish required, and she seasoned them all by a pinch or trace or a negligent-seeming shake from earthenware spice pots. It was as if t here was a kind of magic about her, a knowledge and power beyond that of ordinary people. And yet, even at her busiest, she always knew precisely where Link was. In the very midst of crimping a pie crust or decorating a special cake or stitching up a freshly stuffed chicken she could, without looking, reach out a leg and hook him back out from under the feet of others with heel or ankle.

As he grew a bit older, it even became a game. Link would watch until she seemed far too busy to notice him, and then, laughing, he would run on his sturdy little legs toward a door. But she would always catch him. And he would laugh and throw his arms around her neck and kiss her and then go back to watching for his next chance to run away again.

He was quite convinced in those early years that his Aunt Im was quite the most important and beautiful woman in the world. For one thing, she was taller than the other women on Bo's farm-very nearly as tall as a man-and her face was always serious-even stern except with him, of course. Her hair was long and very dark-almost black-all but one lock just above her left brow which was white as new snow. At night when she tucked him into the little bed close beside her own in their private room above the kitchen, he would reach out and touch that white lock; she would smile at him and touch his face with a soft hand. Then he would sleep, content in the knowledge that she was there, watching over him.

Bo's farm lay very nearly in the center of Ordona, a misty kingdom bordered on the west by the Sea of the Winds and on the east by the Gulf of Eldin. Like all farmhouses in that particular time and place, Bo's farmstead was not one building or two, but rather was a solidly constructed complex of sheds and barns and hen roosts and dovecotes all facing inward upon a central yard with a stout gate at the front. Along the second story gallery were the rooms, some spacious, some quite tiny, in which lived the farmhands who tilled, planted and weeded the extensive fields beyond the walls. Bo himself live in quarters in the square tower above the central dining hall where his workers assembled three times a day-sometimes four during harvest time-to feast on a bounty of Aunt Im's kitchen.

All in all, it was quite a happy and harmonious place. Farmer Bo was a good master. He was a tall, serious man with a long nose and an even longer jaw. Though he seldom laughed or even smiled, he was kindly to those who worked for him and seemed more intent of maintaining them all in health and well-being than extracting the last possible ounce of sweat from them. In many ways he was more like a father to them than a master to the sixty-off people who lived on his free holding. He ate with them-which was unusual, since many farmers in the district sought to hold themselves a loof from their workers-and his presence at the head of the central table in the dining hall exerted a restraining influence on some of the younger ones who tended sometimes to be boisterous. Farmer Bo was a devout man, and he invariable invoked with simple eloquence the blessing of the Gods before each meal. The people of his farm, knowing this, filed with some decorum into this dining hall before each mean and sat in the semblance at least of piety before attacking the heaping platters and bowls of food that Aunt Im and her helpers had placed before them.

Because of Bo's good heart-and the magic of Aunt Im's deft fingers-the farm was known throughout the district as the finest place to live and work for twenty leagues in any direction. Whole evening were spent in the taverns in the nearby village of Upper Gralt in minute descriptions of the near-miraculous meals served regularly in Bo's dining hall. Less fortunate men who worked at other farms were frequently seen, after several pots of ale, to weep openly at the descriptions of one of Aunt Im's roasted geese, and the fame of Bo's farm spread wide throughout the district.

The most important man on the farm, aside from Bo, was Rusl the smith. As Link grew older and was allowed to move out from under Aunt Im's watchful eye, he found his way inevitably to the smithy. The glowing iron that came from Rusl's forge had an almost hypnotic attraction for him. Rusl was an ordinary-looking man with plain brown hair and a plain face, ruddy from the heat of his force. He was neither tall nor short, nor was he thin or stout. He was sober and quiet, and like most men who follow his trade, he was enormously strong. He wore a rough leather jerkin and apron of the same material. Both were spotted with burns from the sparks which flew from his forge. He also wore tight-fitting hose and soft leather boots as was the custom in the part of Ordona. At first Rusl's only words to Link were warnings to keep his fingers away from the forge and the glowing metal which came from it. In time, however, he and the boy became friends, and he spoke more frequently.

"Always finish what you set your hand to," he would advise. "Its bad for the iron if you set it aside and then take it back to the fire more than is needful."

"Why is that?" Link would ask.

Rusl would shrug, "It just is."

"Always do the very best job you can," he said on another occasion as he put a last few finishing touches with a file on the metal parts of a wagon tongue he was repairing.

"But that piece goes underneath," Link said. "No one will ever see it."

"But I know it's there," Rusl said, still smoothing the metal. "If it isn't done as well as I can do it, I'll be ashamed every time I see the wagon go by-and I'll see the wagon every day."

And so it went. Without even intending to, Rusl instructed the small boy in those solid, Ordonian virtues of work, thrift, sobriety, good manners, and practicality which formed the backbone of society.

At first Aunt Im was worried about Link's attraction to the smith with its obvious dangers; but after watching from her kitchen door for a while, she realized that Rusl was almost as watchful of Link's safety as she was herself and she became less concerned.

"If the boy becomes a pest, Goodman Rusl, send him away," she told the smith on one occasion when she had brought a large copper kettle to the smithy to be patched, "or tell me, and I'll keep him closer to the kitchen."

"He's no bother, Mistress Im," Rusl said, smiling "He's a sensible boy and knows enough to keep out of the way."

"You're too good natured, friend Rusl," Aunt Im said. "The boy is full of questions. Answer one and a dozen more pour out."

"That's the way of boys," Rusl said, carefully pouring bubbling metal into the small clay ring he'd placed around the tiny hole in the bottom of the kettle. "I was curious myself when I was a boy. My father and old Barl, the smith who taught me, were patient enough to answer what they could. I'd repay them poorly if I didn't have the same patience with Link."

Link, who was sitting nearby, had held his breath during this conversation. He knew that one wrong word on either side would have instantly banished him from the smithy. As Aunt Im walked back across the hard-packed dirt of the yard towards her kitchen with the new-mended kettle, he noticed the way that Rusl watched her, and an idea began to form in his mind. It was a simple idea, and the beauty of it was that it provided something for everyone.

"Aunt Im," he said that night, wincing as she washed one of his ears with a rough cloth.

"Yes?" she said, turning her attention to his neck.

"Why don't you marry Rusl?"

She stopped washing. "What?" she asked.

"I think it would be an awfully good idea."

"Oh, do you?" her voice had a slight edge to it, and Link knew he was on dangerous ground.

"He likes you," he said defensively.

"And I suppose you've already discussed this with him?"

"No," he said. "I thought I'd talk to you about it first."

"At least that was a good idea."

"I can tell him about it tomorrow morning, if you'd like."

His head was turnaround around quite firmly by one ear. Aunt Im, Link felt, found his ears far too convenient.

"Don't you so much as breathe one word of this nonsense to Rusl or anyone else," she said, her dark eyes burning into his with a fire he had never seen before.

"It was only a thought," he said quickly.

"A very bad one. From now on leave thinking to grown-ups." She was still holding his ear.

"Anything you say," he agreed hastily.

Later that night, however, when they lay in their beds in the quiet darkness, he approached the problem obliquely.

"Aunt Im?"

"Yes?"

"Since you don't want to marry Rusl, whom do you want to marry?"

"Link," she said.

"Yes?"

"Close your mouth and go to sleep."

"I think I've got a right to know," he said in an injured tone.

"Link!"

"All right. I'm going to sleep, but I don't think you're being very fair about all of this."

She drew in a deep breath. "Very well," she said. "I'm not thinking of getting married. I have never thought of getting married and I serious doubt that I'll ever think of getting married. I have far too many important things to attend to for any of that."

"Don't worry, Aunt Im," he said, wanting to put her mind at ease. "When I grow up, I'll marry you."

She laughed them, a deep right laugh, and reached out to touch his face in the darkness. "Oh no, my Link," she said. "There's another wife in store for you."

"Who?" he demanded.

"You'll find out," she said mysteriously. "Now go to sleep."

"Aunt Im?"

"Yes?"

"Where's my mother?" It was a question he had been meaning to ask for quite some time.

There was a long pause then Aunt Im sighed.

"She died," She said quietly.

Link felt a sudden wrenching surge of grief, an unbearable anguish. He began to cry.

And then she was beside his bed. She knelt on the floor and put her arms around him. Finally, a long time later, after she had carried him to her own bed and held him close until his grief had run its course, Link asked brokenly, "What was she like? My mother?"

"She was fair-haired," Aunt Im said, "and very strong and very beautiful. Her voice was gentle, and she was very happy."

"Did she love me?"

"More than you could ever imagine."

And then he cried again, but his crying was quieter now, more regretful than anguish.

Aunt Im held him closely until he cried himself to sleep.

There were other children on Bo's farm, as was only a natural in a community of sixty or so. The older ones on the farm all worked, but there were three other children about Link's age on the free holding. These three became his playmates and his friends.

The oldest boy was Bolin. He was a year or two older than Link and quite a bit taller. Ordinarily, since he was the eldest of the children, Bolin would have been their leader; but because he was an Labryn, his sense was a bit limited and cheerfully deferred to the younger ones. The kingdom of Ordona, unlike other kingdoms, was inhabited by a broad variety of racial stocks. Eldins, Farons, Lanaryuians, Labryns, and even a substantial number of Holodrums had merged to form the elemental Ordonian. Labryns of course, were very brave, but were also notoriously thick-witted.

Link's second playmate was Colin, a small, quick boy whose background was so mixed he could only be called a Ordonian. The most notable thing about Colin was the fact that he was always running; he never walked if he could run. Like his feet, his mind seemed to tumble over itself, and his tongue s well. He talked continually and very fast and he was always excited.

The undisputed leader of the little foursome was the girl, Ilia, a golden-haired charmer who invented their games, made up stories to tell them, and set them to stealing apples and plums from Bo's orchard for her. She ruled them as a little queen, playing one against the other and inciting them into fights. She was quite heartless, and each of the three boys at times hated her even while remaining helpless thralls to her tiniest whim.

In the winter they slid on wide boards down the snowy hillside behind the farmhouse and returned home, wet and snow-covered, with chapped hands and glowing cheeks as evening's purple shadows crept across the snow. Or, after Rusl the smith had proclaimed the ice safe, they would slide endlessly across the frozen pond that lay glittering frostily in a little dale just to the east of the farm buildings along the road to Upper Gralt. And, if the weather was too cold or on toward spring when rains and warm winds had made the snow slushy and the pond unsafe, they would gather in the hay barn and leap by the hour from the loft into the soft hay beneath, filling their hair with chaff and their noses with dust that smelled of summer.

In the spring they caught polliwogs along the marshy edges of the pond and climbed trees to stare in wonder at the tiny blue eggs the birds had laid in twiggy nests in the high branches.

It was Colin, naturally, who fell from a tree and broke his arm one fine spring morning when Ilia urged him into the highest branches of a tree near the edge of the pond. Since Bolin stood helplessly gaping at his injured friend and Ilia had run away almost before he hit the ground, it fell to Link to make certain necessary decisions. Gravely he considered the situation for a few moments, his young face seriously intent beneath his shock of sandy hair. The arm was obviously broken, and Colin, pale and frightened, bit his lip to keep from crying.

A movement caught Link's eye, and he glanced up quickly. A man in a dark cloak sat astride a large black horse not far away, watching intently. When their eyes met, Link felt a momentary chill, and he knew that he had seen the man before- that indeed that dark figure that hovered on the edge of his vision for as long as he could remember, never speaking, but always watching. There was in that silent scrutiny a kind of cold animosity curiously mingled with something that was almost, but not quite, fear. Then Colin whimpered, and Link turned back.

Carefully he bound the injured arm across the front of Colin's body with his rope belt, and then he and Bolin helped the injured boy to his feet.

"At least he could have helped us," Link said resentfully.

"Who?" Bolin said, looking around.

Link turned to point at the dark-cloaked man, but the rider was gone.

"I didn't see anyone," Bolin said.

"It hurts," Colin whined.

"Don't worry," Link said. "Aunt Im will fix it."

And so she did. When the three appeared at the door of her kitchen, she took the situation in with a single glance.

"Bring him over here," she told them, her voice not even excited. She set the pale and violently trembling boy on a stool near one of the ovens and mixed a tea of several herbs taken from jars on a high shelf in the back of one of her pantries.

"Drink this," she instructed Colin, handing him a steaming mug.

"Will it make my arm well?" he asked, suspiciously eyeing the evil-smelling brew.

"Just drink it," she ordered, laying out some splints and linen strips.

"Ick! It tastes awful," Colin complained, making a face.

"It's supposed to," she told him. "Drink it all."

"I don't think I want any more," he said.

"Very well," she said. She pushed back the splints and took down a long, very sharp knife from a hook on the wall.

"What are you doing with that?" he demanded shakily.

"Since you don't want to take the medicine," she said blandly, "I guess it'll have to come off."

"Off?" Colin squeaked, his eyes bulging.

"Probably about right there," she said, thoughtfully touching his arm at the elbow with the point of the knife.

Tears coming to his eyes, Colin gulped down the rest of the liquid and a few minutes later he was nodding, almost drowsing on his stool. He screamed once, though, when Aunt Im set the broken bone, but after the arm had been wrapped and splinted, he drowsed again. Aunt Im spoke briefly with the boy's frightened mother and then had Rusl carry him up to bed.

"You wouldn't really have cut off his arm," Link said.

Aunt Im looked at him, her expression unchanging. "Oh?" she said, and he was no longer sure. "I think I'd like to have a word with Mistress Ilia now," she said then.

"She ran away when Colin fell out of the tree," Link told her.

"Find her."

"She's hiding," Link protested. "She always hides when something goes wrong. I wouldn't know where to look for her."

"Link," Aunt Im said, "I didn't ask you if you knew where to look. I told you to find her and bring her to me."

"What if she won't come?" Link hedged.

"Link!" There was a note of awful finality in Aunt Im's voice, and Link fled.

"I didn't have anything to do with it," Ilia lied as soon as Link led her to Aunt Im in the kitchen.

"You," Aunt Im said, pointing to a stool, "sit!"

Ilia sank onto the stool, her mouth open and her eyes wide.

"You," Aunt Im said to Link, pointing at the kitchen door, "out!"

Link quickly left.

Ten minutes later a sobbing little girl stumbled out of the kitchen. Aunt Im stood in the doorway looking after her with eyes as hard as ice.

"Did you thrash her?" Link asked hopefully.

Aunt Im withered him with a glance. "Of course not," she said. "You don't thrash girls."

"I would have," Link said disappointed. "What did you do to her?"

"Don't you have anything to do?" Aunt Im asked.

"No," Link said shrugging, "not really."

That, of course, was a mistake.

"Good," Aunt Im said finding one of his ears. "It's time you started to earn your way. You'll find some dirty pots in the scullery. I'd like to have them scrubbed."

"I don't know why you're angry with me," Link objected, squirming under her grip on his ear. "it wasn't my fault that Colin went up that tree."

"The scullery, Link," she said. "Now."

The rest of that spring and the early part of the summer were quiet. Colin of course, could not play until his arm mended, and Ilia had been so shaken by whatever it was that Aunt I'm had said to her that she avoided the two other boys. Link was left with only Bolin to play with, and Bolin wasn't bright enough to be much fun. Because there was really nothing else to do, the boys often went into the fields to watch the hands work and listen to their talk.

As it happened, during that particular summer the men on Bo's farm were talking about the Battle of La Mimbre, the most cataclysmic event in the history of the west. Link and Bolin listened, enthralled, as the men unfolded the story of how the hordes of Kal Ganondorf had quite suddenly struck into the west some five hundred years before.

It had all begun in 4865, as men reckoned time in that part of the world, when the vast multitudes of Lorules, Terminans and Kohols had struck down across the mountains of the eastern escarpment into Lanaryu, and behind them in endless waves had come the uncountable numbers of the Gerudoes.

After Lanaryu had been brutally crushed, the Gerudo had turned southward onto the vast grasslands of Faron and had laid siege to the enormous fortress called the Faron Stronghold. The siege had lasted for either years until finally, in disgust, Kal Ganondorf abandoned it. It was not until he turned his arm westward to Elruland that the other kingdoms became aware that the Gerudo invasion was directed not only against the Hylians but against all of the west. In the summer of 4875 Kal Ganondorf had come down upon the Labrynish plain before the city of La Mimbre, and it was there that the combined armies of the west awaited him.

The Ordonians who participated in the battle were a part of the force under the leadership of Mal-Medio, the Windfall Warder or nicknamed as the Shadow of the Windfall King. That force, consisting of Windfallians more commonly known as Fallians, Ordonians, and Asturian Labryns, assaulted the Gerudo rear after the left had been engaged by Farons, Lanaryuians and Elrus; the right by Holodrums and Eldins; and the front by the legendary charge of the Mimbrate Labryns. For hours the battle had raged until, in the center of the field, Mal-Medio had met in single combat with Kal Ganondorf himself. Upon that duel had hinged the outcome of the battle.

Although twenty generations had passed since that titanic encounter, it was still fresh in the memory of Ordonian farmers who worked on Bo's farm as if it had happened only yesterday. Each blow was described, and each feint and parry. At the final moment, when it seemed that he must inevitably be overthrown, Mal-Medio had removed the covering from his shield, and Kal Ganondorf, taken aback by some momentary confusion, had lowered his guard and had been instantly stuck down.

For Bolin, the description of the battle was enough to set his Labryn blood seething. Link, however, found that certain questions had been left unanswered by the stories.

"Why was Mal-Medio's shield covered?" He asked Talon, one of the older hands.

Talon shrugged. "It just was," he said. "Everyone I've ever talked with about it agrees on that."

"Was it a magic shield?" Link persisted.

"It may have been," Talon said, "but I've never heard anyone say so. All I know is that when Mal-Medio uncovered his shield, Kal Ganondorf dropped his own shield, and Mal-Medio stabbed his sword into Kal Ganondorf's head through the eye, or so I'm told."

Link shook his head stubbornly. "I don't understand," he said. "How would something like that make Kal Ganondorf afraid?"

"I can't say," Talon told him. "I've never heard anyone explain it."

Despite his dissatisfaction with the story, Link quite quickly agreed to Bolin's rather simple plan to re-enact the duel. After a day or so of posturing and banging at each other with sticks to simulate swords, Link decided that they needed some equipment to make the game more enjoyable. Two kettles and two large pot lids mysteriously disappeared from Aunt Im's kitchen; and Link and Bolin, now with helmets and shields, hid away to a quiet place to do war upon each other.

It was all going quite splendidly until Bolin, who was older, taller and stronger, stuck Link a resounding whack on the head with his wooden sword. The rim of the kettle cut into Link's eyebrow, and the blood began to flow. There was a sudden ringing in Link's ears, and a kind of ringing in Link's ears, and a kind of boiling exaltation surged up in his veins as he rose to his feet from the ground.

He never knew afterward quite what happened. He had only sketchy memories of shouting defiance at Kal Ganondorf in words which sprang to his lips which even he did not understand. Bolin's familiar face was no longer the face before him but rather was replaced by something hideously maimed and ugly. In a fury Link struck at that face again and again with fire seething in his brain.

And then it was over. Poor Bolin lay at his feet, beaten senseless by the enraged attack. Link was horrified at what he had done, but at the same time there was the fiery taste of victory in his mouth.

Later in the kitchen, where all the injuries on the farm were routinely taken, Aunt Im tended their wounds with only minimal comments about them. Bolin seemed not to be seriously, though his face had begun to swell and turn purple in several places and he had difficulty focusing his eyes at first. A few cold cloths on his head and one of Aunt Im's potions quickly restored him.

The cut on Link's brow, however, required a bit more attention. She had Rusl hold the boy down and then she took a needle and thread and sewed up the cut as calmly as she would have repaired a rip in a sleeve, all of this while ignoring the howls from her patient. All in all, she seemed much more concerned about the dented kettles and battered pot lids tan about the war of the two boys.

When it was over, Link was a headache and was taken up to bed.

"At least I beat Kal Ganondorf," he told his Aunt somewhat drowsily.

She looked at him sharply.

"Where did you hear about Ganondorf?" she demanded.

"It's Kal Ganondorf, Aunt Im," Link explained patiently.

"Answer me."

"The farmers were telling stories-old Talon and the others about Mal-Medio and La Mimbre and Kal Ganondorf and all the rest. That's what Bolin and I were playing. I was Mal-Medio and he was Kal Ganondorf. I didn't get to uncover my shield, though. Bolin his me on the head before we got that far."

"I want you to listen to me Link." Aunt Im said, "and I want you to listen carefully. You are never to speak the name of Ganondorf again."

"It's Kal Ganondorf, Aunt Im," Link explained again, "not just Ganondorf."

Then she hit him - which she had never done before. The slap across his mouth surprised him more than it hurt, for she did not hit very hard.

"You will never speak the name of Ganondorf again. Never!" she said. "This is important, Link. Your safety depends on it. I want your promise."

"You don't have to get so angry about it," he said in an injured tone.

"Promise."

"All right, I promise. It was only a game."

"A very foolish one," Aunt Im said. "You might have killed Bolin."

"What about me?" Link protested.

"You were never in any danger," she told him. "Now go to sleep."

And as he dozed fitfully, his head light from his injury and the strange, bitter drink his Aunt had given him, he seemed to hear her deep, rich voice sating, "Link, my Link, you're too young get." And later, rising from deep sleep as a dish rises toward the silvery surface of the water, he seemed to hear her call, "Father, I need you." Then he plunged again into a troubled sleep, haunted by a dark figure of a man on a black horse who watched him every movement with a cold animosity and something that hovered very near the edge of fear; and behind that dark figure he had always known to be there but had never overtly acknowledged, even to Aunt Im, the maimed and ugly face he had briefly seen or imagined in the fight with Bolin loomed darkly, like the hideous fruit of an unspeakable evil tree.

**Reviews? Something? Please?**


	3. Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 2

Part 1 Ordona Chapter 2

Not long after the endless noon of Link's boyhood, the storyteller appeared once again at the gate of Bo's farm. The storyteller, who seemed not to have a proper name as other men do, was a thoroughly disreputable old man. The knees of his hose were patched and his mismatched shoes were out at the toes. His long-sleeved woolen tunic was belted about the waist with a piece of rope, and his hood, a curious garment not normally worn in that part of Ordona and one which Link thought quite fine with its loosely fitting yoke covering shoulder, back and chest, was spotted and soiled with spilled food and drink. Only his full cloak seemed relatively new. The old story-teller's white hair was cropped quite close, as was his beard. His face was strong, with a kind of angularity to it, and his features provided no clue to his background. He did not resemble Labryn nor Eldin, Faron nor Lanaryuian, Fallian nor Holodrum, but seemed rather to derive from some racial stock long since forgotten. His eyes were deep and merry blue, forever young and forever full of mischief.

The storyteller appeared from time to time at Bo's farm and was always welcome. He was in truth a rootless vagabond who made his way in the world by telling stories. His stories were not always new, but there was in his telling of them a special kind of magic. His voice could roll like thunder or hush down into a zepherlike whisper. He could imitate the voice of a dozen men at once; whistle so like a bird that the birds themselves would come to hear what he had to say; and when he imitated the howl of a wolf, the sound could raise the hair on the backs of his listeners' necks and strike a chill into their hearts like the depths of a Lanaryian winter. He could make the sound of rain and of wind even, most miraculously, the sound of show falling. His stories were filled with sounds that made them come alive, and through the sounds and the words with which he wove the tales, sight and smell and the very feel of strange times and places seemed also to come to life for his spellbound listeners.

All of this wonder he gave freely in exchange for a few meals, a few tankards of ale, and a warm spot in the hay barn in which to sleep. He roamed about the world seemingly as free of possessions as the birds.

Between the storyteller and Aunt Im there seemed to be a sort of hidden recognition. She had always viewed his coming with a kind of wry acceptance, knowing, it seemed, that the ultimate treasures of her kitchen were not safe so long as he lurked in the vicinity. Loaves and cakes had a way of disappearing when he was around, and his quick knife, always ready, could neatly divest the most carefully prepared goose of a pair of drumsticks and a generous slab of breast meat with three swift slices when her back was turned. She called him "Old Wolf," and his appearance at the gate of Bo's farm marked the resumption of a contest which had obviously been going on for years. He flattered her outrageously even as he stole from her. Offered cookies or dark brown bread, he would politely refuse and then steal half a plateful before the platter had moved out of his reach. Her beer pantry and wine cellar might as well have been delivered into his hand immediately upon his appearance at the gate. He seemed to delight in pilferage, and if she watched him with steely eye, he found quite easily a dozen confederates willing to sack her kitchen in exchange for a single story.

Lamentably, among his most able pupils was the boy Link. Often, driven to distraction by the necessity of watching at once an old thief and a fledgling one, Aunt Im would arm herself with a broom and drive them both from her kitchen with hard words and resounding blows. And the old storyteller, laughing, would flee with the boy to some secluded place where they would feast on the fruits of their pilferage and the old man, drinking frequently from a flagon of stolen wine or beer, would regale his student with stories out of the dim past.

The best stories, of course, were saved for the dining hall when, after the evening meal was over and the plates had been pushed back, the old man would rise from his place and carry his listeners off into a world of magical enchantment.

"Tell us of the beginnings, my old friend," Bo, always pious, said one evening, "and of the Gods."

"Of the beginnings and the Gods," the old man mused. "A worthy subject, Bo, but a dry and dusty one."

"I've noticed that you find all subjects dry and dusty, Old Wolf, "Aunt Im said, going to the barrel and drawing off a tankard of foamy beer for him.

He accepted the tankard with a stately bow. "It's one of the hazards of my profession, Mistress Im," he explained. He drank deeply, then set the tankard aside. He lowered his head in thought for a moment, then looked directly, or so it seemed, at Link. And then he did a strange thing which he had never before done when telling stories in Bo's dining hall. He drew his cloak about him and rose to his full height.

"Behold," he said, his voice rich and sonorous, "at the beginning of days the Gods made the world and the seas and the dry land also. And cast they the stars across the night sky and did set the sun and his wife, the moon, in the heavens to give light unto the world.

"And the Gods caused the earth to bring forth the beasts, and the waters to thrive with fish, and the skies to flock with birds.

"And they made men also, and divided men into Peoples.

"Now the Gods were seven in number and were all equal, and their names were Hyla, Farore, Lodrum, Din, Nayru, Deku and Ganondorf."

Link knew the story, of course; everyone in that part of Ordona was familiar with it, since the story was of Hylian origin and the lands on three sides of Ordona were Hylian kingdoms. Though the tale was familiar, however, he had never before heard it told in such a way. His mind soared as in his imagination the Gods themselves strode the world in those dim, misty days when the world was first made, and a chill came over him at each mention of the forbidden name of Ganondorf.

He listened intently as the storyteller described how each God selected his people - For Hyla the Hylians, for Din the Subrosians, for Lodrum the Holodrums, for Farore the Labryns, for Nayru the Markanas which are no more, and for Ganondorf the Gerudo. And he heard how the God, Deku dwelt apart and considered the stars in his solitude, and how some very few men he accepted as pupils and disciples.

Link glanced at the others who were listening. Their faces were rapt with attention. Rusl's eyes were wide, and old Talon's hands were clasped on the table in front of him. Bo's face was pale, and tears stood in his eyes. Aunt Im stood at the rear of the room. Though it was not cold, she too had drawn her mantle about her and stood very straight, her eyes intent.

"And it came to pass," the storyteller continued, "that the God Deku caused to be made a jewel in the shape of a triangle, and behold, in the jewel was captured the light of certain stars that did glitter in the northern sky. And great was the enchantment upon the jewel which men called the Triforce, for with the Triforce could Deku see that which had been, that which was, and that which was yet to be."

Link realized he was holding his breath, for he was now completely caught up in the story. He listened in wonder as Ganondorf stole the Triforce and the other Gods made war upon him. Ganondorf used the Triforce to sunder the earth and let in the sea to drown the land, until the Triforce struck nack against misuse by melting the left side of his face and destroying his left hand and eye, forever to burn in golden flame.

The old man paused and drained his tankard. Aunt Im, with her mantle still close about her, brought him another, her movements somehow stately and her eyes burning.

"I've never heard the story told so," Rusl said softly.

"It's the Book of Hylian. It's only told in the presence of kings," Talon said, just as softly. "I knew a man who once had heard it at the king's court at Ordonia, and he remembered some of it. I've never heard it all before though."

The story continued, recounting how Geapora the Sorcerer led Eldin and his three sons to regain the Triforce two thousand years later, and how the western lands were settled and guared against the hosts of Ganondorf. The Gods removed from the world, leaving Lina to safeguard the Triforce in his fortress on the Isle of Winds. There he forged a great sword and set the Triforce in its hilt. While the Triforce remained there and the line of Lina sat on the throne, Ganondorf could not prevail.

Then Geapora sent his favorite daughter to Lina to be a mother to kings, while his other daughter remained with him and learned his art, for the mark of the sorceress was upon her.

The old storyteller's voice was now very soft and his ancient tale drew to its close. "And between them," he said, "did Geapora and his daughter, the Sorceress Impa, set enchantments to keep watch against the coming for Ganondorf. And some men say they shall abide again his coming even though it be until the very end of days, for it is prophesied that one day shall maimed Ganondorf come against the kingdoms of the west to reclaim the Triforce which he so dearly purchased, and the battle shall be joined between Ganondorf and the fruit of the line of Lina, and in that battle shall be decided the fate of the world."

And then the old man fell silent and let his mantle drop from about his shoulders, signifying that his story was at an end.

There was a long silence in the hall, broken only by a few faint crackles from the dying fire and the endless song of frogs and crickets in the summer night outside.

Finally Bo cleared his throat and rose, his bench scraping loudly on the wooden floor. "You have done us much honor tonight, my friend," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is an event we will remember all our lives. You have told us a kingly story, not usually wasted on ordinary people."

The old man grinned then, his blue eyes twinkling. "I haven't consorted with many kings of late, Bo." He laughed. "They all seem to be too busy to listen to the old tales, and a story must be told from time to time if it is not to be lost- besides, who knows these days where a king might be hiding?"

They all laughed at that and began to push back their benches, for it was growing late and time for those who must be up with the first light of the sun to seek their beds.

"Will you carry a lantern for me to my bed boy?" the storyteller asked Link.

"Gladly," Link said, jumping up and running into the kitchen. He fetched down a square glass lantern, lighted the candle inside it from one of the banked kitchen fires, and went back into the dining hall.

Bo was speaking with the storyteller. As he turned away, Link saw a strange look pass between the old man and Aunt Im, who stood at the back of the hall.

"Are we ready then boy?" the old man asked Link as he came up to him.

"Whenever you are," then the two of them turned and left the hall.

"Why is the story unfinished?" Link asked, bursting with curiosity. "Why did you stop before we found out what happened when Ganondorf met the Windfall King?"

"That's another story," the old man explained.

"Will you tell it to me sometime?" Link pressed.

The old man laughed. "My boy, Ganondorf and the Windfall King have not as yet met," he said, "so I can't very well tell it, can I? At least not until after their meeting."

"It's only a story," Link objected. "Isn't it?"

"Is it?" The old man removed a flagon of wine from under his tunic and took a long drink. "Who is to say what is only a story and what is truth disguised as a story?"

"Its only a story." Link said stubbornly, suddenly feeling very hardheaded and practical like any good Ordonian. "It can't really be true. Why, Geapora the Sorcerer would be - would be I don't know how old - and people don't live that long."

"Seven thousand years,"

"What?"

"Geapora the Sorcerer is seven thousand years old - give or take a couple of hundred years."

"That's impossible." Link said.

"It is? How old are you?"

"Nine, next Navidad."

"And in nine years you've learned everything that's both possible and impossible? You're a remarkable boy Link."

Link flushed. "Well," he said, somehow not quite so sure of himself, "the oldest man I ever heard of is Weldrik over on Mildrin's farm. Rusl says he's over ninety and that he's the oldest man in the district."

"And it's a very big district of course," the old man said solemnly.

"How old are you?" Link asked, not wanting to give up.

"Old enough boy."

"It's still only a story." Link insisted again.

"Many good and solid men would say so," the old man told him, looking up at the stars, "good men who will live out their lives believing only in what they can see and touch. But there's a world beyond that, and that world lives by its own laws. What may be impossible in this very ordinary world is very possible there, and sometimes the boundaries between the two worlds disappear, and then who can say what is possible and impossible?"

"I think I'd rather live in the ordinary world," Link said. "The other one sounds too complicated."

"We don't always have that choice Link. Don't be surprised if that other world someday chooses you to do something that must be done - some great and noble thing." the storyteller told him.

"Me?" Link asked incredulously.

"Stranger things have happened. Now go to bed, boy. I think I'll look at the stars for a while. The stars and I are very old friends."

"The stars?" Link asked looking up at the sky. "You're a very strange old man - if you don't mind me saying so."

"Indeed," he agreed. "Quite the strangest you'll likely meet."

"I like you all the same," Link said quickly not wanting to offend the storyteller.

"That's a comfort boy. Now off to bed before your Aunt Im has my head."

Later, as he slept, Link's dreams were troubled. The dark figure of maimed Ganondorf loomed in the shadows, and monstrous things pursued him across twisted landscapes where the possible and the impossible merged and joined as that other world reached out to claim him.


	4. Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 3

Part 1 Ordona Chapter 3

Some few mornings later, when Aunt Im had begun to scowl at his continued lurking in her kitchen, the old man made excuse of some errand to the nearby village of Upper Gralt.

"Good," Aunt Im said, somewhat ungraciously. "At least my pantries will be safe while you're gone."

He bowed mockingly, his eyes twinkling. "Do you need anything, Mistress Im?" he asked. "Some trifling thing I might purchase for you - as long as I'm going anyway?"

Aunt Im thought a moment. "Some of my spice pots are a bit low," she said. "and there's a Holodrum spice merchant in Fennel Lane just south of the Town Tavern. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding the tavern."

"The trip is likely to be dry," the old man admitted pleasantly. "And lonely, too. Ten leagues with no one to talk to is a long way."

"Talk to the birds." Aunt Im suggested bluntly.

"Birds listen well enough, but their speech is repetitious and quickly grows tiresome. Why don't I take the boy along for company?"

Link held his breath.

"He's picking up enough bad habits on his own. I'd prefer his not having expert instructions." she said tartly.

"Why, Mistress Im," the old man objected, stealing a cruller almost absently, "you do me an injustice. Besides, a change will do the boy good - broaden his horizons, you might say."

"His horizons are quite broad enough, thank you," she said.

Link's heart sank.

"Still," she continued, "at least I can count on him not to forget my spices altogether or to become so fuddled with ale that be confuses peppercorns with cloves or cinnamon with nutmeg. Very well, take the boy along; but mind, I don't want you taking him into any low or disreputable places."

"Mistress Im!" the old man said, feigning shock. "Would I frequent such places?"

"I know you too well, Old Wolf," she said dryly. "You take too vice and corruption as naturally as a duck takes to a pond. If I hear that you've taken the boy into any unsavory place, you and I will have words."

"Then I'll have to make sure that you don't hear anything like that, won't I?"

Aunt Im gave him a hard look. "I'll see which spices I need," she said.

"And I'll borrow a horse and cart from Bo," the old man said stealing another cruller.

In a surprisingly short time, Link and the old man were bouncing along the rutted road to Upper Gralt behind a fast-trotting horse. It was a bright summer morning, and there were a few dandelion-puff clouds in the sky and deep blue shadows under the hedgerows. After a few hours, however, the sun became hot, and the jolting ride became tiresome.

"Are we almost there?" Link asked for the third time.

"Not for some time yet," the old man said. "Ten leagues is a goodly distance."

"I was there once before," Link told him trying to sound casual. "Of course I was only a child at the time, so I don't remember too much about it. It seemed to be quite a fine place."

The old man shrugged. "It's a village," he said, "much like any other." He seemed a bit preoccupied.

Link, hoping to nudge the old man into a story to make the miles go faster, began asking questions.

"Why is it that you have no name - if I'm not being impolite in asking?"

"I have many names," the old man said, scratching his white beard. "Almost as many names as I have years."

"I've only got one," Link said.

"So far."

"What?"

"You've only got one name so far," the old man explained. "In time you may get another - or even several. Some people collect names as they go along through their lives. Sometimes names wear out just like clothes."

"Aunt Im calls you Old Wolf," Link pointed out.

"I know," the old man said. "Your Aunt Im and I have known each other for a very long time."

"Why does she call you that?"

"Who can say why a woman such as your Aunt does anything?"

"May I call you Mister Wolf?" Link asked. Names were quite important to Link, and the fact that the old storyteller did not seem to have one had always bothered him. The namelessness had made the old man seem somehow incomplete, unfinished.

The old man looked at him soberly for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.

"Mister Wolf indeed. How very appropriate. I think I like that name better than any I've had in years."

"May I then?" Link asked. "Call you Mister Wolf I mean?"

"I think I'd like that, Link. I'd like that very much."

"Now would you please tell me a story, Mister Wolf?" Link asked.

The time and distance when by much faster then as Mister Wolf wove for Link tales of glorious adventure and dark treachery taken from those gloomy, unending centuries of the Labrynish civil wars.

"Why are the Labryns like that?" Link asked after a particularly grim tale.

"The Labryns are very noble," Wolf said, lounging back in the seat of the cart with the reins held negligently in one hand. "Nobility is a trait that is not always trustworthy, since it sometimes causes men to do things for obscure reasons."

"Bolin is a Labryn," Link said. "He sometimes seems to be well, not too quick of thought, if you know what I mean."

"It's the effect of all that nobility," Wolf said. "Labryns spend so much time concentrating on being noble that they don't have time to think of other things."

They came over the crest of a long hill, and there in the next valley lay the village of Upper Gralt. To Link the tiny cluster of grey stone houses with slate roofs seemed disappointingly small . Two roads, white and thick dust, intersected there, and there were a few narrow winding streets besides. The houses were square and solid, but seemed almost like toys set down in the valley below. The horizon beyond was ragged with the mountains of eastern Ordona, and, though it was summer, the tops of most of the mountains were still wrapped in snow.

Their tired horse plodded down the hill toward the village, his hooves stirring little clouds of dust with each step, and soon they were clattering along the cobbled stoned streets toward the center of the village. The villagers, of course, were all too important to pay any attention to an old man and a small boy in a farm cart. The women wore gowns and high-pointed hats, and the men wore doublets and soft velvet caps. Their expressions seemed haughty, and they looked with obvious disdain at the few farmers in town who respectfully stood aside to let them pass.

"They're very fine, aren't they?" Link observed.

"They seem to think so," Wolf said, his expression faintly amused. "I think it's time that we found something to eat, don't you?"

Though he had not realize it until the old man mentioned it, Link was suddenly starving. "Where will we go?" he asked. "They all seem so splendid. Would any of them let strangers sit at their tables?"

Wolf laughed and shook a jingling purse as his waist. "We should have no trouble making acquaintances," he said. "There are places where one may buy food."

Buy food? Link had never heard of such a thing before. Anyone who appeared at Bo's gate at mealtime was invited to the table as a matter of course. The world of the villagers was obviously very different from the world of Bo's farm.

"But I haven't any money," he objected.

"I've enough for us both," Wolf assured him, stopping their horse before a large, low building with a sign bearing a picture of a cluster of grapes hanging just above its door. There were words on the sign, but of course Link could no read them.

"What do the words say, Mister Wolf?" he asked.

"They say that good and drink may be bought inside," Wolf told him, getting down from the cart.

"It must be a find thing to be able to read," Link said wistfully.

The old man looked at him, seemingly surprised. "You can't read boy?" he asked incredulously.

"I've never found anyone to teach me," Link said. "Bo reads, I think, but no one else at the farm knows how."

"Nonsense," Wolf snorted. "I'll speak to your Aunt about it. She's been neglecting her responsibility. She should have taught you years ago."

"Can Aunt Im read?" Link asked, stunned.

"Of course she can," Wolf said leaving the way into the tavern. "She says she finds little advantages in it, but she and I had that particular argument out, many years ago." The old man seemed quite upset by Link's lack of education.

Link, however, was far too interested in the smoky interior of the tavern to pay much attention. The room was large and dark with a low, beamed ceiling and a stone floor strewn with rushes. Though it was not cold, a fire burned in a stone pit in the center of the room, and the smoke rose errantly toward a chimney set above it on four square stone pillars. Tallow candles guttered in clay dishes on several of the long, stained tables, and there was a reek of wine and stale beer in the air.

"What have you to ear?" Wolf demanded of a sour, unshaven man wearing a grease-spotted apron.

"We've a bit of a joint left," the man said, pointing at a spit resting to one side of the fire pit. "Roasted only a day before last. And meat porridge fresh yesterday morning, and bread no more than a week old."

"Very well," Wolf said sitting down. "And I'll have a pot of your best ale, and milk for the boy."

"Milk?" Link protested.

"Milk," Wolf said firmly.

"You have money?" the sour looking man demanded.

Wolf jingled his purse, and the sour man looked suddenly less sour.

"Why is that man overt there sleeping?" Link asked, pointing at a snoring villager sitting with his head down on one of the tables.

"Drunk," Wolf said, not even glancing at the snoring man.

"Shouldn't someone take care of him?"

"He'd rather not be taken care of."

"Do you know him?"

"I know of him," Wolf said, "and many others like him. I've occasionally been in that condition myself."

"Why?"

"It seemed appropriate at the time."

The roast was dry and overdone, and meat porridge was thin and watery, and the bread was stale, but Link was too hungry to notice. He carefully cleaned his place as he had been taught , then sat as Mister Wolf lingered over a second pot of ale.

"Quite splendid," he said, more to be saying something than out of any real conviction. All in all he found that Upper Gralt did not live up to his expectations.

"Adequate." Wolf shrugged. "Village taverns are much the same over the world. I've seldom seen one I'd hurry to visit again. Shall we go?" He laid down a few coins, which the sour-looking man snatched up quickly, and led Link back out into the afternoon sunlight.

"Let's find your Aunt's spice merchant," he said, "and then see to a night's lodging-and a stable for our horse." They set off down the street, leaving horse and cart beside the tavern.

The house of the Holodrum spice merchant was a tall, narrow building in the next street. Two swarthy, and thick-bodied men in short tunics lounged in the street at his front door near a fierce-looking black horse wearing a curious armored saddle. The two men stared with dull-eyed disinterest at the lane.

Mister Wolf stopped when he caught sight of them.

"Is something wrong?" Link asked.

"Kohols," Wolf said quietly, looking hard at the two men.

"What?"

"Those two are Kohols," the old man said. "They usually work as porters for the Lorules."

"What are Lorules?"

"The people of Cthol Lorule," Wolf said shortly. "Southern Gerudo."

"The ones we beat at the battle of La Mimbre?" Link asked. "Why would they be here?"

"The Lorules have taken up commerce," Wolf said, frowning. "I hadn't expected to see one of them in so remote a village. We may as well go in. The Kohols have seen us, and it might look strange if we turned now and went back. Stay close to me, boy, and don't say anything."

They walked past the two heavyset men and entered the spice merchant's shop.

The Holodrum was a thin, baldheaded man wearing a brown, belted gown that reached to the floor. He was nervously weighing several packets of pungent-smelling powder which lay on the counter before him.

"Good day to you," he said to Wolf. "Please have patience. I'll be with your shortly." He spoke with a slight lisp that Link found peculiar.

"No hurry," Wolf said in a wheezy, cracking voice. Link looked at him sharply and was astonished to see his friend was stooped and that his head was nodding foolishly.

"See to their needs," the other man in the shop said shortly. He was a dark, burly man wearing a chain-mail shirt and a short sword belted to his waist. His cheekbones were high, and there were several savage-looking scars on his face. His eyes looked curiously angular, and his voice was harsh and thickly accented.

"No hurry," Wolf said in his wheezy cackle.

"My business will take some time," The Lorule said coldly, "And I prefer not to be rushed. Tell the merchant here what you need, old man."

"My thanks, then," Wolf cackled. "I have a list somewhere about me." He began to fumble foolishly in his pockets. "My master drew it up. I do home you can read it, friend merchant, for I cannot." He finally found the list and presented it to the Holodrum.

The merchant glanced at the list. "This will only take a moment," he told the Lorule.

The Lorule nodded and stood staring stonily at Wolf and Link. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression changed. "You're a seemly appearing boy," he said to Link. "What's your name?"

Until that moment in his entire life, Link had been an honest and truthful boy, but Wolf's manner had opened before his eyes an entire world of deception. Somewhere in the back of his mind he seemed to hear a dry warning voice, calmly advising him that the situation was dangerous and that he should take steps to protect himself. He hesitated only an instant before telling his first deliberate lie. He allowed his mouth to drop open and his face to assume an expression of vacant headed stupidity. "Bolin, your Honor," he mumbled.

"A Labrynish name," The Lorule said, his eyes narrowing even more. "You don't look like a Labryn."

Link gaped at him.

"Are you a Labryn, Bolin?" The Lorule pressed.

Link frowned as if struggling with a thought while his mind raced. The dry voice suggested several alternatives.

"My father was," he said finally, "but my mother is an Ordonain, and people say I favor her."

"You say was," The Lorule said quickly. "Is your father dead, then?" his scarred face as intent.

Link nodded foolishly. "A tree he was cutting fell on him," he lied. "It was a long time ago."

The Lorule suddenly seemed to lose interest. "Here's a copper penny for you boy," he said, indifferently tossing a small coin on the floor at Link's feet. "It has the likeness of the God Ganondorf stamped on it. Perhaps it will being you lock-or at least more wit."

Wolf quickly stooped quickly and retrieved the coin, but the coin he handed Link was a common Ordonian penny.

"Thank the good man, Bolin," he wheezed.

"My thanks, your honor," Link said, concealing the penny tightly in his fist.

The Lorule shrugged and looked away.

Wolf paid the Holodrum merchant for the spices, and he and Link left the shop.

"You played a dangerous game, boy," Wolf said once they were out of earshot of the two lounging Kohols.

"You seemed not to want him to know who we were," Link explained. "I wasn't sure why, but I thought I ought to do the same. Was what I did wrong?"

"You're very quick," Wolf said approvingly. "I think we managed to deceive the Lorule."

"Why did you change the coin?" Link asked.

"Sometimes Gerudo coins are not what they seem," Wolf said. "It's better for you not to have any of them. Let's fetch our horse and cart. It's a long way back to Bo's farm."

"I thought we were going to take lodgings for the night."

"That's changed now. Come along, boy. It's time for us to leave."

The horse was very tired, as he moved slowly up the long hill out of Upper Gralt as the sun went down ahead of them.

"Why wouldn't you let me keep the Gerudo penny, Mister Wolf?" Link persisted. The subject still puzzled him.

"There are many things in this world that seem to be one thing and are in fact another," Wolf said somewhat grimly. "I don't trust Gerudo, and I particularly don't trust Lorules. It would be just as well, I think, if you never had in your possession anything that bears the likeness of Ganondorf."

"But the war between the west and the Gerudo has been over for five hundred years now," Link objected. "All men say so."

"Not all men," Wolf said. "Now take that robe out of the back of the cart and cover up. Your Aunt would never forgive me if you should take a chill."

"I will if you think I should," Link said, "but I'm not a bit cold and not at all sleepy. I'll keep you company as we go."

"That'll be a comfort boy," Wolf said.

"Mister Wolf," Link said after some time, "did you know my mother and father?"

"Yes." Wolf said quietly.

"My father's dead too, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so."

Link sighed deeply. "I thought so," he said. "I wish I'd known them. Aunt Im says I was only a baby when-" He couldn't bring himself to say it. "I've tried to remember my mother, but I can't."

"You were very small," Wolf said.

"What were they like?" Link asked.

Wolf scratched at his beard. "Ordinary," he said. "So ordinary you wouldn't look twice at either of them."

Link was offended by that. "Aunt Im says my mother was very beautiful," he objected.

"She way."

"Then how can you say she was ordinary?"

"She wasn't prominent or important," Wolf said. "Neither was your father. Anyone who saw them thought they were just simple village people - a young man with a young wife and their baby - that's all anyone ever saw. That's all anyone was supposed to see."

"I don't understand."

"It's very complicated."

"What was my father like?"

"Medium size," Wolf said. "Dark hair. A very serious young man. I liked him."

"Did he love my mother?"

"More than anything."

"And me?"

"Of course."

"What kind of place did they live in?"

"It was a small place," Wolf said, "a little village near the mountains, a long way from any main roads. They had a cottage at the end of the street. It was a small, solid little house. Your father built it himself - he was a stonecutter. I used to stop by there once in a while when I was in the neighborhood." The old man's voice droned on, describing the village and the house and the two who lived there. Link listened, not even realizing it when he fell asleep.

It must have been very late, almost on toward dawn. In a half drowse, the boy felt himself lifted from the cart and carried up a flight of stairs. The old man was surprisingly strong. Aunt Im was there - he knew that without even opening his eyes. There was a particular scent about her that he could have found in a dark room.

"Just cover him up," Mister Wolf said softly to Aunt Im. "Best not to wake him just now."

"What happened?" Aunt Im asked, her voice as soft as the old man's.

"There was a Lorule in town - at your spice merchant's. He asked questions and he tried to give the boy a Gerudo penny."

"In Upper Gralt? Are you certain he was only a Lorule?"

"It's impossible to tell. Not even I can distinguish between Lorule and Purohita with any certainty."

"What happened to the coin?"

"I was quick enough to get it. I gave the boy an Ordonian penny instead. If our Lorule was a Purohita, we'll let him follow me. I'm sure I can give him several months of entertainment."

"You'll be leaving then?" Aunt Im's voice seemed somehow sad.

"It's time," Wolf said. "Right now the boy is safe enough here, and I must be abroad. There are things afoot I must see to. When Lorules begin to appear in remote places, I begin to worry. We have a great responsibility and a great care placed upon us, and we mustn't allow ourselves to become careless."

"Will you be gone long?" Aunt Im asked.

"Some years, I expect. There are many things I must look into and many people I'll have to see."

"I'll miss you," Aunt Im said softly.

He laughed. "Sentimentality, Im?" he said dryly. "That's hardly in character."

"You know what I mean."

Wolf nodded. "Keep the boy close, and don't let his nature drive you into hysterics. Be careful; he lies like a champion."

"Link?" Her voice was shocked.

"He lied to the Lorule so well that even I was impressed."

"Link?"

"He's also started to ask questions about his parents," Wolf said.

"How much have you told him?"

"Very little. Only that they're dead."

"Let's leave it at that for now. There's no point in telling him things he isn't old enough to cope with yet."

There voices went on, but Link drifted off into sleep again, and he was almost sure that it was all a dream.

But the next morning when he awoke, Mister Wolf was gone.

**Thank you to my first follower on this story xXhellcreatureXx! I got this chapter done by tonight because of your follow so thanks!**


	5. Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 4

**Merry Christmas to all! Well to about the four of you that will probably read at this, but to you small amount of people I'm thankful and hope you enjoy.**

Part 1 Ordona Chapter 4

The seasons turned, as seasons will. Summer ripened into autumn; the blaze of autumn died into winter; winter grudgingly relented to the urgency of spring; and spring bloomed into summer again.

With the turning of the seasons the years turned, and Link imperceptibly grew older.

As he grew older, the other children grew as well - all except poor Colin, who seemed doomed to be short and skinny all his life. Bolin sprouted like a young tree and was soon almost as big as any man on the farm. Ilia, of course, did not grow so tall, but she developed in other ways which the boys began to find interesting.

In the early autumn just before Link's fourteenth birthday, he came very close to ending his career. In response to some primal urge all children have - given a pond and a handy supply of logs - they had built a raft that summer. The raft was neither very large nor was it particularly well-built. It had a tendency to sink at one end if the weight aboard it were improperly distributed and an alarming habit of coming apart at unexpected moments.

Quite naturally it was Link who was aboard the raft - showing off - on that find autumn day when the raft quite suddenly decided once and for all to revert to its original form. The bindings all came undone, and the logs began to go their separate ways.

Realizing his danger only at the last moment, Link made a desperate effort to pole for shore, but his haste only made the disintegration of his craft more rapid. In the end he found himself standing on a single log, his arms wind milling wildly in a futile effort to retain his balance. His eyes, desperately searching for some aid, swept the marshy shore. Some distance up the slop behind his playmates he saw the familiar figure of the man on the black horse. The man wore a dark robe, and his burning eyes watched the boy's plight. Then the spiteful log rolled under Link's feet, and he toppled and fell with a resounding splash.

Link's education, unfortunately, had not included instruction in the art of swimming; and while the water was not really very deep, it was deep enough.

The bottom of the pond was very unpleasant, a kind of dark, weedy ooze inhabited by frogs, turtles and a singularly unsavory-looking eel that slithered away snakelike when Link plunged like a sinking rock into the weeds. Link struggled, gulped water and launched himself with his legs toward the surface again. Like a broaching whale, he rose from the depths, gasped a couple of quick spluttering breaths and heard the screams of his playmates. The dark figure on the slope had not moved, and for a single instant every detail of that bright afternoon was etched on Link's mind. He even observed that, although the rider was in the open under the full glare of the autumn sun, neither man nor horse cast any shadow. Even as his mind grappled with that impossibility, he sank once more to the murky bottom.

It occurred to him as he struggled, drowning, amongst the weeds that if he could launch himself into the vicinity of the log, he might catch hold of it and so remain afloat. He waved off a startled looking frog and plunged upward again. He came up, unfortunately, directly under the log. The blow on the top of his head filled his eyes with light and his ears with a roaring sound, and he sank, no longer struggling, back toward the weeds which seemed to reach up for him.

And then Rusl was there. Link felt himself lifted roughly by the hair toward the surface and then towed by the same convenient handle toward shore behind Rusl's powerfully churning strokes. The smith pulled the semiconscious boy out onto the bank, turned him over and stepped on him several times to force the water out of his lungs.

Link's ribs creaked.

"Enough Rusl," he gasped finally. He sat up, and the blood from the splendid cut on his head immediately ran into his eyes. He wiped the blood clear and looked around for the dark, shadow-less rider, but the figure had vanished. He tried to get up, but the world suddenly spun around him, and he fainted.

When he awoke, he was on his own bed with his head wrapped in bandages.

Aunt Im stood beside his bed, her eyes blazing. "You stupid boy!" she cried. "What were you doing in that pond?"

"Rafting," Link said, trying to make it sound quite ordinary.

"Rafting?" she said. "Rafting? Who gave you permission?"

"Well-" he said uncertainly. "We just"

"You just what?"

He looked at her helplessly.

And then with a low cry she took him in her arms and crushed him to her almost suffocating hold.

Briefly Link considered telling her about the strange shadow-less figure that had watched his struggles in the pond, but the dry voice in his mind that sometimes spoke to him told him that this was not the time for that. He seemed to know somehow that the business between him and the man on the black horse was something very private, and that the time would inevitably come when they would face each other in some kind of contest of will or deed. To speak of it now to Aunt Im would involve her in the matter, and he did not want that. He was not sure exactly why, but he did know the dark figure was an enemy, and though that thought was a bit frightening, it was also exciting. There was no question that Aunt Im could deal with this stranger, but if she did, Link knew that he would lose something very personal and for some reason very important. And so he said nothing.

"It wasn't really anything all that dangerous," he said instead, rather lamely. "I was starting to get the idea of how to swim. I'd have been alright if I hadn't hit my head on that log."

"But of course you did hit your head," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but it wasn't that serious. I'd have been all right in a minute or two."

"Under the circumstances I'm not sure you had a minute or two," she said bluntly.

"Well-" he faltered, and then decided to let it drop.

That marked the end of Link's freedom. Aunt Im confined him to the scullery. He grew to know every dent and scratch on every pot in the kitchen intimately. He once estimated gloomily that he washed each one twenty-one times a week. In a seeming orgy of messiness, Aunt Im suddenly could not even boil water without dirtying at least three or four pans, and Link had to scrub every one. He hated it and began to think quite seriously of running away.

As autumn progressed and the weather began to deteriorate, the other children were also more or less confined to the compound as well, and it wasn't so bad. Bolin, of course, was seldom with them anymore since his man's size had made him - even more than Link - subject to more and more frequent labor.

When he could, Link slipped away to be with Ilia and Colin, but they no longer found entertainment in leaping into the hay or in the endless game of tag in the stables and barns. They had reached an age and size where adults rather quickly noticed such idleness and found tasks to occupy them. Most often they would sit in some out of the way place and simply talk - which is to say that Link and Ilia would sit and listen to the endless flow of Colin's chatter. That small, quick boy, as unable to be quiet as he was to sit still, could seemingly talk for hours, and his words tumbled out breathlessly as he fidgeted.

"What's that mark on your hand, Link?" Ilia asked one rainy day, interrupting Colin's bubbling voice.

Link looked at the very faint, almost triangular on the back of his right hand.

"I've noticed it too," Colin said, quickly changing subjects in midsentence. "But Link grew up in the kitchen didn't you Link? It's probably a place where he burned himself when he was little - you know, reached out before anyone could stop him and dropped something hot on his hand. I'll bet his Aunt Im got really angry about that, because she can get angrier faster than anybody else I've ever seen, and she can really-"

"It's always been there," Link said tracing the faint mark. He never really looked closely at it before, but now he seemed to notice a very faint, almost impossible to see golden sheen.

"Maybe it's a birthmark," Ilia suggested.

"I'll bet that's it," Colin said, quickly followed by a ramble about a man he saw once with a purple mark on his face, that looked like a bruise but was actually a birthmark.

That evening, after he'd gotten ready for bed, he asked his Aunt about it.

"What's this mark, Aunt Im?" he asked, holding his hand up.

She looked up from where she was brushing her long hair.

"It's nothing to worry about," she told him.

"I wasn't worried about it," he said. "I just wondered what it was. Ilia and Colin think it's a birthmark. Is that what it is?"

"Something like that."

"Did either of my parents have the same kind of mark?"

"Your father did. It's been in the family for a long time."

A sudden strange thought occurred to Link. Without knowing why, he reached out with his hand and touched the white lock at his Aunt's brow. "Is it like that white place in your hair?" he asked.

He felt a sudden tingle in his hand, and it seemed somehow that a window was opened in his mind. At first there was only the sense of uncountable years moving by like a vast sea of rolling clouds, and then, sharper than any knife, the feeling of endlessly repeated loss, of sorrow. Then, more recent, there was his own face, and behind it more faces, young, old, regal or quite ordinary, and behind them all, no longer foolish as it sometimes seemed, the face of Mister Wolf. But more than anything there was a knowledge of an unearthly inhuman power, the certainty of an unconquerable will.

Aunt Im moved her head away almost absently.

"Don't do that Link," she said, and the window in his mind shut.

"What was it?" he asked, burning with curiosity and wanting to open the window again.

"A simple trick," she said.

"Show me how."

"Not yet, my Link," she said, taking his face between her hands. "Not yet. You're not ready yet. Now go to bed."

"You'll be here?" he asked, a little frightened now.

"I'll always be here," she said, tucking him in. And then she went back to brushing her long, thick hair, humming a strange song as she did in a deep, melodious voice; to that sound he fell asleep.

After that not even Link himself saw the mark on his own hand very often. There suddenly seemed to be all kinds of dirty jobs for him to do which kept not only his hands, but the rest of his as well, very dirty.

The most important holiday in Ordona - and indeed the rest of the kingdoms of the west - was Navidad. It commemorated the day, eons before, when the seven Gods joined hands to create the world with a single word. The festival of Navidad took place in midwinter, and, because there was little to do on a farm like Bo's at that season, it had by custom become a splendid two-week celebration with feasts and gifts and decorations in the dining hall and little pageants honoring the Gods. These last, of course, were a reflection of Bo's piety. Bo, though he was a good simple man, had no illusions about how widely his sentiments were shared by others on the farm. He thought, however, that some outward show of devotional activity was in keeping with the season; and, because he was such a good master, the people on his farm chose to humor him.

It was also at this season, unfortunately, that Bo's married daughter, Beth, and her husband, Ivan, made their customary annual visit to remain on speaking terms with her father. Beth had no intention of endangering her inheritance rights by seeming inattention. Her visits, however, were a trial to Bo, who looked upon his daughter's somewhat overdressed and supercilious husband, a minor functionary in a commercial house in the capital city of Ordonia, with scarcely concealed contempt.

Their arrival, however, marked the beginning of the Navidad festival at Bo's farm; so while no one cared for them personally, their appearance was always greeted with a certain enthusiasm.

The weather that year had been particularly foul, even for Ordona. The rains had settled in early and were soon followed by a period of snow = not the crisp bright powder which came later in the winter, but a damp slush, always half melting. For Link, whose duties were in the kitchen now prevented him from joining with his former playmates in their traditional preholiday orgy of anticipatory excitement, the approaching holiday seemed somehow flat and stale. He yearned back to the good gold days and often sighed with regret and moped about the kitchen like a sandy-haired cloud of doom.

Even the traditional decorations in the dining hall, where Navidad festivities always took place, seemed decidedly tacky to him that year. The fir boughs festooning the ceiling beams were somehow not as green, and the polished apples carefully tied to the boughs were smaller and not as red. He sighed some more and reveled in his sullen moping.

Aunt Im, however, was not impressed, and her attitude was firmly unsympathetic. She routinely checked his brow with her hand for signs of fever then dosed him with the foulest-tasting tonic she could concoct. Link was careful after that to mope in private and to sigh less audibly. That dry, secret part of his mind informed him that he was just being ridiculous, but Link chose to ignore it. The voice in his mind was much holder and wiser than he, but it seemed determined to take all the fun out of life.

On the morning of Navidad, a Loruleian and five Kohols appeared with a wagon outside the fate and asked to see Bo. Link, who had long since learned that no one pays attention to a boy and that many interesting things may be learned by placing himself in a position to casually overhear conversations, busied himself with some small, unimportant chore near the gate.

The Loruleian, his face scarred much like the face of the one in Upper Gralt, sat importantly on the wagon seat, his chainmail shirk clinking each time he moved. He wore a black, hooded robe, and his sword was much in evidence. His eyes moved constantly, taking in everything. The Kohols, in muddy felt boots and heavy cloaks, lounged disinterestedly against the wagon, seemingly indifferent to the raw wind whipping across the snowy fields.

Bo, in his finest doublet - it was after all Navidad - came across the yard, closely followed by Beth and Ivan.

"Good morrow, friend," Bo said to the Loruleian. "Joyous Navidad to you."

The Loruleian grunted. "You are, I take it, the farmer Bo?" he asked in his heavily accented voice.

"I am," Bo replied.

"I understand you have a goodly number of hams on hand-well cured."

"The pigs did well this year," Bo answered modestly.

"I will but them," the Loruleian announced, jingling his purse.

Bo bowed. "First thing tomorrow morning," he said.

The Loruleian stared.

"This is a pious household," Bo explained. "We do not offend the Gods by breaking the sanctity of Navidad."

"Father," Beth snapped, "don't be foolish. This noble merchant has come a long way to do business."

"Not on Navidad," Bo said stubbornly, his long face stern.

"In the city of Ordonia," Ivan said in his father high pitched, nasal voice, "we do not let suh sentimentality interfere with business."

"This is not the city of Ordonia," Bo said flatly. "This is Bo's farm, and on Bo's farm we do no work and conduct no business on Navidad."

"Father," Beth protested, "the noble merchant has gold. Gold, father, gold!"

"I will hear no more of it," Bo announced. He turned to the Lorulian. "You and your servants are welcome to join us in our celebration friend," he said. "We can provide quarters for you and the promise of the finest dinner in all of Ordona and the opportunity to honor the Gods on this special day. No man is made poorer by attending to his religious obligations."

"We do not observe this holiday in Cthol Lorule," the scared man said coldly. "As the noble lady says, I have come a long way to do business and have not much time to tarry. I'm sure there are other farmers in the district with the merchandise I require."

"Father!" Beth wailed.

"I know my neighbors," Bo said quietly. "Your luck today will be small I hear. The observance of this day in a firm tradition in this area."

The Loruleian thought for a moment. "It may be as you say," he said finally. "I will accept your invitation, provided that we can do business as early as possible tomorrow."

Bo bowed. "I'll place myself at your service at first light tomorrow if you so desire."

"Done, then," the Loruleian said, climbing down from his wagon.

That afternoon the feast was laid in the dining hall. The kitchen helpers and a half dozen other who had been pressed into service for the special day scurried from kitchen to hall bearing smoking roasts, steaming hams and sizzling geese all under the lash of Aunt Im's tongue. Link observed sourly as he struggled with an enormous baron of beef that Bo's prohibition of work on Navidad stopped at the kitchen door.

In time, all was ready. The tables were loaded, the fires in the fireplace burned brightly, dozens of candles filled the hall with golden light, and torches flared in their rings on the stone pillars. Bo's people, all in their best clothes, filed into the hall, their mouths watering with anticipation.

When all were seated, Bo rose from his bench at the head of the center table. "Dear friends," he said, lifting his tankard, "I dedicate this feast to the Gods."

"The Gods," the people responded in unison, rising respectfully. Bo drank briefly, and they all followed suit. "Hear me, O Gods," he prayed. "Most humbly we thank you for the bounty of this fair world which you made on this day, and we dedicate ourselves to your service for yet another year." He looked for a moment as if he was going to say more, but then sat down instead. Bo always labored for many hours over special prayers for occasions such as this, but the agony of speaking in public invariably erased the words so carefully prepared from his mind. His prayers, therefore, were always very sincere and very short.

"Eat, dear friends," he instructed. "Do not let the food grow cold."

And so they ate. Beth and Ivan, who joined them all at this one meal only at Bo's insistence, devoted their conversation efforts to the Loruleian, since he was the only one in the room who was worthy of their attention.

"I have long thought of visiting Cthol Lorule," Ivan stated rather pompously. "Don't you agree, friend merchant, that greater contact between east and west is the way to overcome those mutual suspicions which have to marred our relationships in the past."

"We Loruleians prefer to keep to ourselves," the scar-faced man said shortly.

"But you are here, friend," Ivan pointed out. "Doesn't that suggest the greater contact might prove beneficial?"

"I am here as a duty," the Loruleian said. "I don't visit here out of preference." he looked around the room. "Are these then all of your people?" he asked Bo.

"Every soul is here," Bo told him.

"I was lead to believe there was an old man here - with white hair and a beard."

"Not here friend," Bo said. "I myself am the eldest here, and as you can see, my hair is far from white."

"One of my countrymen met such a one some years ago," the Loruleian said. "He was accompanied by a Labrynish boy - Bolin, I believe his name was."

Link, seated at the next table, kept his face to his plate and listened so hard that he thought his ears must be growing.

"We have a boy named Bolin here," Bo said. "That tall lad at the end of the far table over there." he pointed.

"No," the Loruleian said, looking hard at Bolin. "That isn't the boy who was described to me."

"It's not an uncommon name among the Labryns," Bo said. "Quite probably your friend met a pair from another farm."

"That must be is," the Loruleian said, seeing to dismiss the affair. "This ham is excellent," he said, pointing at his plate with the point of the dagger with which he ate. "Are the ones in your smokehouse of similar quality?"

"Oh, no, friend merchant!" Bo laughed. "You won't so easily trick me into talking business on this day."

The Loruleian smiled briefly, the expression appearing strange on his scarred face. "One can always try," he said. "I would, however, compliment your cook."

"A compliment for you, Mistress Im," Bo said, raising his voice slightly. "Our friend from Cthol Lorule finds your cooking much to his liking."

"I thank him for his compliment," Aunt Im said, somewhat coldly.

The Loruleian looked at her, and his eyes widened as if in recognition.

"A noble meal, great lady," he said, bowing his head slightly in her direction. "Your kitchen is a place of magic."

"No," she said, her face suddenly very haughty, "not magic. Cooking is an art which anyone with patience may learn. Magic is quite something else."

"But magic is also an art, great lady," the Loruleian said.

"There are many who would think so," Aunt Im said, "but true magic comes from within and it is not the result on nimble fingers which trick the eye."

The Loruleian stared at her, his face hard, and she returned his gaze with steely eyes. To Link, sitting nearby, it seemed as if something had passed between them that had nothing to do with the words they spoke - a kind of challenge seemed to hang in the air. And then the Loruleian looked away almost as if he feared to take up that challenge.

When the meal was over, it was time for the rather simple pageant which traditionally marked Navidad. Seven of the older farmhands who had slipped away earlier appeared in the doorway wearing the long, hooded robes and carefully carved and painted masks which represented the faces of the Gods. The costumes were old and showed the wrinkles from being packed away in Bo's attic for the past year. With a slow step, the robed and masked figures paced into the hall and lined up at the foot of the table where Bo said. Then each in turn spoke a short piece which identified the God he represented.

"I am Deku," Talon's voice came from being the first mask, "the God who dwells along, and I command this world to be."

"I am Hyla," came another familiar voice from behind the second mask, "Bear-God of the Hylians, and I command this world to be." And so it went down the line, Farore, Din, Lodrum, Nayru and then finally the last figure, which, unlike the others, was robed in black and whose mask was made of steel instead of painted wood.

"I am Ganondorf," Rusl's voice came hollowly from behind the mask, "Dragon-God of the Gerudo, and I command this world to be."

A movement caught Link's eye, and he looked quickly. The Loruleian had covered his face with his hands in a strange, almost ceremonial gesture. Beyond hin, at the far table, the five Kohols were ashen-faced and trembling.

The seven figures at the foot of Bo's table joined their hands. "We are the Gods," they said in unison, "and we command this world to be."

"Hearken unto the words of the Gods," Bo declaimed. "Welcome are the Gods into the house of Bo."

"The blessing of the Gods be upon the house of Bo," the seven responded, "and upon all this company." And then they turned and, as slowly as they had come, they paced from the hall.

And then came the gifts. There was much excitement at this, for this gifts were all from Bo, and the good farmer struggled long each year to provide the most suitable gift for each of his people. New tunics and hose and gowns and shoes were much in evidence, but Link this year was nearing overwhelmed when he opened his smallish, cloth wrapped bundle and he found a neat, well-sheathed dagger.

"He's nearly a man," Bo explained to Aunt Im, "and a man always had need of a good knife."

Link, of course, immediately tested the edge of his gift and quite promptly managed to cut his finger.

"It was inevitable, I suppose," Aunt Im said, but whether she was speaking of the cut or the gift itself or the fact Link's growing up was not entirely clear.

The Loruleian bought his hams the next morning, and he and the five Kohols departed. A few days later Beth and Ivan packed up and left on their return journey to the city of Ordonia, and Bo's farm returned to normal.

The winter plodded on. The snows came and went, and spring returned, as it always does. The only thing which made that spring any different from any other was the arrival of Stalkii, the new hand. One of the younger farmers had married and rented a small croft and had left, laden down with practical gifts and good advice from Bo to begin his life as a married man. Stalkii was hired to replace him.

Link found Stalkii to be definitely unattractive addition to the farm. The man's tunic and hose were patched and stained, his black hair and scraggly beard were unkempt, and one of his eyes looked off in a different direction from its fellow. He was a sour, solitary man, and he was none too clean. He seemed to carry with him an acrid reek of stale sweat that hung in his vicinity like a miasma. After a few attempts at conversation, Link gave up and avoided him.

The boy, however, had other things to occupy his mind during that spring and summer. Though he had until then considered her to be more an inconvenience than a genuine playmate, quite suddenly he began to notice Ilia. He had always known that she was pretty, but until that particular season that face had been unimportant, and he had much preferred the company of Bolin and Colin. Now matters had changed. He noticed that the other two boys had begun to pay more attention to her as well, and for the first time he began to feel the stirrings of jealousy.

Ilia, of course, flirted outrageously with all three of them, and positively glowed when they glared at each other in her presence. Bolin's duties in the field kept him away most of the time, but Colin was a serious worry to Link. He became quite nervous and frequently found excuses to go about the compound and make certain that Colin and Ilia were not along together.

His own campaign was charmingly simple - he resorted to bribery. Ilia, like all the little girls, was fond of sweets, and Link had access to the entire kitchen. In a short period of time they had worked out an arrangement. Link would steal sweets from the kitchen for his sunny haired playmate, and in return she would let him kiss her. Things might have gone further if Aunt Im had not caught them in the middle of such exchange one bright summer afternoon in the seclusion of the hay barn.

"That's quite enough of that," she announced firmly from the doorway.

Link jumped guiltily away from Ilia.

"I've got something in my eye," Ilia lied quickly. "Link was trying to get it out for me."

Link stood blushing furiously.

"Really?" Aunt Im said. "How interesting. Come with me, Link."

"I-" he started.

"Now, Link."

And that was the end of that. Link's time thereafter was totally occupied in the kitchen, and Aunt Im's eyes seemed to be on him every moment. He mooned about a great deal and worried desperately about Colin, who now appeared hatefully smug, but Aunt Im remained watchful, and Link remained in the kitchen.


	6. Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 5

Part 1 Ordona Chapter 5

In mid autumn that year, when the leaves had turned and the wind had showered them down from the trees like red and gold snow, when evenings were chill and the spoke from the chimneys at Bo's farm rose straight and blue toward the first cold stars in a purpling sky, Wolf returned. He came up the roast one gusty afternoon under a lowering autumn sky with new-fallen leaves tumbling about him and his great, dark cloak whipping in the wind.

Link, who had been dumping kitchen slops to the pigs, saw his approach and ran to greet him. The old man seemed travel-stained and tired, and his face under his gray hood was grim. His usual demeanor of happy-go-lucky cheerfulness had been replaced by a somber moon Link had never seen in him before.

"Link," Wolf said by way of greeting. "You've grown, I see."

"It's been five years," Link said.

"Has it been that long? So that would make you fifteen this coming winter, correct?"

Link nodded, falling into step behind his friend.

"Is everyone well?" Wolf asked.

"Oh yes," Link said. "Everything's the same here-except that Breldo got married and moved away, and the old brown cow died last summer."

"I remember that cow," Wolf said. I must speak with your Aunt Im."

"She's not in a very good mood today," Link warned. "It might be better if you rested in one of the barns. I can sneak some food and drink to you in a bit."

"We'll have to chance her mood," Wolf said. "What I have to say to her can't wait."

They entered the gate and crossed the courtyard to the kitchen door. Aunt Im was waiting. "You again?" she said tartly, her hands on her hips. "My kitchen still hasn't recovered from your last visit."

"Mistress Im," Wolf said, bowing. Then he did a strange thing. His fingers traced an intricate little design in the air in front of his chest. Link was quite sure that he was not intended to see those gestures.

Aunt Im's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed, and her face became grim.

"How do you-" she started, then caught herself. "Link," she said sharply, "I need some carrots. There are still some in the ground at the far end of the kitchen garden. Take a spade and a pail and fetch me some."

"But," he protested, and then, warned by her expression, he left quickly. He got a spade and pail from a nearby shed and then loitered near the kitchen door. Eavesdropping, of course, was not a nice habit and was considered the worst sort of bad manners in Ordona, but Link had long ago concluded that whenever he was sent away, the conversation was bound to be very interesting and would probably concern him rather than intimately. He had wrestled briefly with his conscience about it; but, since he really saw no harm in the practice - as long as he didn't repeat anything he hears - conscience had lost to curiosity.

Link's ears were very sharp, but it took him a moment or two to separate the two familiar voices from the other sounds in the kitchen.

"He will not leave you a trail," Aunt Im was saying.

"He doesn't have to," Wolf replied. "The thing itself will make its trail known to me. I can follow it as easily as a fox can scent out the track of a rabbit."

"Where will he take it?" she asked.

"Who can say? His mind is closed to me. My guess is that he'll go north to Lan Tor. That's the shortest route to Termina. He'll know that I'll be after him, and he'll want to cross into the lands of the Gerudo as soon as possible. His theft won't be complete so long as he stays in the west."

"When did it happen?"

"Four weeks ago."

"He could already be in the Gerudo kingdoms."

"That's not likely. The distances are great; but if he is, I'll have to follow him. I'll need your help."

"But how can I leave here?" Aunt Im asked. "I have to watch over the boy."

Link's curiosity was becoming almost unbearable. He edged closer to the kitchen door.

"The boy'll be safe here," Wolf said. "This is an urgent matter."

"No," Aunt Im contradicted. "Even this place isn't safe. Last Navidad a Loruleian and five Kohols came here. He posed as a merchant but he asked too many questions - about an old man and a boy named Bolin who had been seen in Upper Gralt some years ago. He may also have recognized me."

"It's more serious than I thought, then," Wolf said thoughtfully. "We'll have to move the boy. We can leave him with friends elsewhere."

"No," Aunt Im disagreed again. "If I go with you, he'll have to go along. He's reaching an age where he has to be watched most carefully."

"Don't be foolish," Wolf said sharply.

Link was stunned. Nobody talked to Aunt Im that way.

"It's my decision to make," Aunt Im said crisply. "We all agreed that he was to be in my care until he was grown. I won't go unless he goes with me."

Link's heart leapt.

"Im," Wolf said sharply, "think where we may have to go. You can't deliver the boy into those hands."

"He's be safer in Cthol Lorule or in Gerudoa itself than he would be here without me to watch him," Aunt Im said. "Last spring I caught him in the barn with a girl about his own ago. As I said, he needs watching."

Wolf laughed then, a rich, merry sound.

"Is that all?" he said. "You worry too much about such things."

"How would you like it if we returned and found him married and about to become a father?" Aunt Im demanded acidly. "He's make an excellent farmer, and what matter if we'd all have to wait a thousand years for the circumstances to be right again?"

"Surely it hasn't gone that far. They're only children."

"You're blind, Old Wolf," Aunt Im said. "This is backcountry Ordona, and the boy has been raised to do the proper and honorable thing. The girl is a bright-eyed little minx who's maturing much too rapidly for my comfort. Right now charming little Ilia is far greater danger than any Loruleian could ever be. Either boy goes along, or I won't go either. You have your responsibilities, and I have mine."

"There's no time to argue," Wolf said. "If it has to be this way, then so be it."

Link almost choked with excitement. He felt only a passing, momentary pang at leaving Ilia behind. He turned and looked exultantly up at the clouds scudding across the evening sky. And, because his back was turned, he did not see Aunt Im approach through the kitchen door.

"The garden, as I recall, lies beyond the south wall," she pointed out.

Link started guiltily.

"How is it that the carrots remain undug?" she demanded.

"I had to look for the spade," he said unconvincingly.

"Really? I see that you found it, however." Her eyebrows arched dangerously.

"Only just now."

"Splendid. Carrots, Link, now."

Link grabbed his spade and pail then ran.

It was just dusk when he returned, and he saw Aunt Im mounting the steps that led to Bo's quarters. He might have followed her to listen, but a faint movement in the dark doorway of one of the sheds made him step instead into the shadow of the gate. A furtive figure moved from the shed to the foot of the stairs Aunt Im had just climbed and silently crept up the stairs as soon as she went in Bo's door. The light was fading, and Link could not see exactly who followed his Aunt. He set down his pail and, grasping the spade like a weapon, he hurried quickly around the inner court, keeping to the shadows.

There came the sound of a movement inside the chambers upstairs, and the figure at the door straightened quickly and scurried down the steps. Link slipped back out of sight, his spade still held at the ready. As the figure passed him, Link briefly caught the scent of stale, musty clothing and rank sweat. As certainly as if he had seen the man's face, he knew that the figure that had followed his Aunt had been Stalkii, the new farmhand.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Link heard his Aunt's voice. "I'm sorry, Bo, but it's a family matter, and I must leave immediately."

"I would pay you more, Im." Bo's voice was almost breaking.

"Money has nothing to do with it," Aunt Im replied. "You're a good man, Bo, and your farm has been a haven to me when I needed one. I'm grateful to you - more than you can know - but I must leave."

"Perhaps when this family business is over, you can come back," Bo almost pleaded.

"No, Bo," she said. "I'm afraid not."

"We'll miss you, Im," Bo said with tears in his voice.

"And I'll miss you, dear Bo. I've never met a better-hearted man. I'd take it kindly if you wouldn't mention my leaving until I'm gone. I'm not fond of explanations or sentimental good-byes."

"Whatever you wish, Im."

"Don't look so mournful, old friend," Aunt Im said lightly. "My helpers are well-trained. Their cooking will be the same as mine. Your stomach will never know the difference."

"My heart will," Bo said.

"Don't be silly," she said gently. "Now I must see to supper." Link moved quickly away from the foot of the stairs. Troubled, he put his spade back in the shed and fetched the pail of carrots he had left sitting by the gate. To reveal to his Aunt that he had seen Stalkii listening at the door would immediately raise question about his own activities that he would prefer not to have answer. In all probability Stalkii was merely curious, and there was nothing menacing or ominous about that. To observe the unsavory Stalkii duplicating his own seemingly harmless pastime, however, made Link quite uncomfortable - even slightly ashamed of himself.

Although Link was much too excited to eat, supper that evening seemed as ordinary as any meal on Bo's farm had ever been. Link covertly watched sour-faced Stalkii, but the man showed no outward sign of having in any way been changed by the conversation he had gone to so much trouble to overhear.

When supper was over, as was always the case when he visited the farm, Mister Wolf was prevailed upon to tell a story. He rose and stood for a moment deep in thought as the wind moaned in the chimney and the torches flickered in their rings on the pillars in the hall.

"As all men know," he began, "The Markanas are no more, and the Spirit of Nayru weeps alone in the wilderness and wails among the moss grown ruins of Ikana. But also, as all men know, the hills and streams of Ikana are heavy with fine yellow gold. That gold, of course, was the cause of the destruction of the Markanas. When a certain neighboring kingdom became aware of the gold, the temptation became too great, and the result - as it almost always is when gold is at issue between kingdoms - was war. The pretext for the war was the lamentable fact that the Markanas were cannibals. While this habit is distasteful to civilized men, had there not been gold in Ikana it might have been overlooked.

"The war, however, was inevitable, and the Markanas were slain. But the Spirit of Nayru and the ghosts of all the slaughtered Markanas remained in Ikana, as those who went into that haunted kingdom soon discovered.

"Now it chanced to happen that about that time there lived in the town of Mistwatch in southern Ordona three adventuresome men, and, hearing of all that gold, they resolved to journey down to Ikana to claim their share of it. The men, as I said, were adventuresome and bold, and they scoffed at the tales of ghosts.

"Their journey was long, for it is many hundreds of leagues from Mistwatch to the upper reaches of Ikana, but the smell of the gold drew them on. And so it happened, one dark and stormy night, that they crept across the border into Ikana past the patrols which had been set to turn back just such as they. That nearby kingdom, having gone to all the expence and inconvenience of war, was quite naturally reluctant to share the gold with anyone who chanced to pass by.

"Through the night they crept, burning with their lust for gold. The Spirit of Nayru wailed about them, but they were brave men and not afraid of spirits - and besides, they told each other, the sound was not truly a spirit, but merely the moaning of the wind in the trees.

"As dim and misty morning seeped amongst the hills, they could hear, not far away the rushing sound of a river. As all men know, gold is most easily found along the banks of rivers, and so they made quickly toward that sound.

"Then one of them chanced to look down in the dim light, and behold, the ground at his feet was strewn with gold-lumps and chunks of it. Overcome with greed, he remained silent and loitered behind until his companions were out of sight; then he fell to his knees and began to gather up gold as a child might pick flowers.

"He heard a sound behind him and turned. When he saw it is best not to say. Dropping all his gold, he bolted.

"Now the river they had heard cut through a gorge just about there, and his two companions were amazed to see him run off the edge of that gorge and even continue to run as he fell, his legs churning insubstantial air. Then they turned, and they saw what had been pursing him.

"One went quite mad and leaped with a despairing cry into the same gorge which had just claimed his companion, but the third adventurer, the bravest and boldest of all, told himself that no ghost could actually hurt a living man and stood his ground. That, of course, was the worst mistake of all. The ghosts encircled him as he stood bravely, certain that they could not hurt him."

Mister Wolf paused and drank briefly from his tankard. "And then," the old storyteller continued, "because even ghosts can become hungry, they divided him up and ate him."

Link's hair stood on end at the shocking conclusion of Wolf's tale, and he could sense the others at his table shuddering. It was not all the kind of story they had expected to hear.

Rusl the smith, who was sitting nearby, had a perplexed expression on his plain face. Finally he spoke. "I would not question the truth of your story for the world," he said to Wolf, struggling with the words, "but if they ate him - the ghosts, I mean - where did it go? I mean - if ghosts are insubstantial, as all men say they are, they don't have stomachs, do they? And what would they bite with?"

Wolf's face grew sly and mysterious. He raised one finger as if he were about to make some cryptic reply to Rusl's puzzled question, and then he suddenly began to laugh.

Rusl looked annoyed at first, and then, rather sheepishly, he too began to laugh. Slowly the laughter spread as they all began to understand the joke.

"An excellent jest, old friend," Bo said, laughing as hard as any of the others, "and one from which much instruction may be gained. Greed is bad, but fear is worse, and the world is dangerous enough without cluttering it with imaginary hobgoblins." Trust Bo to twist a good story into a moralistic sermon of some kind.

"True enough, good Bo." Wolf said more seriously, "but there are things in this world which cannot be explained away or dismissed with laughter."

Stalkii, seated near the fire, had not joined in the laughter.

"I have never seen a ghost," he said sourly, "nor even met anyone who has, and I for one do not believe in any kind of magic or sorcery or such childishness." And he stood up and stamped out of the hall almost as if the story had been a kind of personal insult.

Later, in the kitchen, when Aunt Im was seeing to the cleaning up and Wolf lounged against one of the worktables with a tankard of beer, Link's struggle with his conscience finally came into the open. That dry, interior voice informed him most pointedly that concealing what he had seen what not merely foolish, but possibly dangerous as well. He set down the pot he was scrubbing and crossed to where they were. "It might not be important," he said carefully, "but this afternoon, when I was coming back from the garden, I saw Stalkii following you, Aunt Im."

She turned and looked at him. Wolf set down his tankard.

"Go on, Link," Aunt Im said.

"It was when you went up to talk with Bo," Link explained. "He waited until you'd gone up the stairs and Bo had let you in. Then he snuck up and listened at the door. I saw him up there when I went to put the spade away."

"How long has this man Stalkii been at the farm?" Wolf asked, frowning.

"He came just last spring," Link said, "after Breldo got married and moved away."

"And the Loruleian merchant was here at Navidad some months before?"

Aunt Im looked at him sharply.

"You think-" She did not finish.

"I think it might not be a bad idea if I were to step around and have a few words with friend Stalkii," Wolf said grimly, "Do you know where his room is, Link?"

Link nodded, his heart racing.

"Show me." Wolf moved away from the table against which he had been lounging, and his step was no longer the step of an old man. It was curious as if they ears had suddenly dropped away from him.

"Be careful," Aunt Im warned.

Wolf chuckled, and the sound was chilling. "I'm always careful. You should know that by now."

Link quickly led Wolf out into the yard and around to the far end where the steps mounted to the gallery that led to the rooms of the farmhands. They went up, their soft leather shoes making no sound on the worn steps.

"Down here," Link whispered, not knowing exactly why he whispered.

Wolf nodded, and they went quietly down the dark gallery.

"Here," Link whispered stopping.

"Step back," Wolf breathed. He touched the door with his fingertips.

"Is it locked?" Link asked.

"That's no problem," Wolf said shortly. He put his hand to the latch, there was a click, and the door swung open. Wolf stepped inside with Link close behind.

It was totally dark in the room, and the sour stink of Stalkii's unwashed clothes hung in the air.

"He's not here," Wolf said in a normal tone. He fumbled with something at his belt, and there was a scrape of flint against steel and a flare of sparks. A wisp of frayed rope caught the sparks and began to glow. Wolf blew on the spark for a second, and it flared into flame. He raised the burning wisp over his head and looked around the empty room.

The floor and bed were littered with rumpled clothes and personal belongings. Link knew instantly that this was not simple untidiness, but rather was the sign of a hasty departure, and he did not know exactly how it was that he knew.

Wolf stood for a moment, holding his little torch. His face seemed somehow empty, as if his mind were searching for something.

"The stables," he said sharply. "Quickly, boy!"

Link turned and dashed from the room with Wolf close behind. The burning wisp of rope drifted down into the yard, illuminating it briefly after Wolf discarded it over the railing as he ran.

There was a light in the stable. It was dim, partially covered, but faint beams shone through the weathered cracks in the door. The horses were stirring uneasily.

"Stay clear, boy," Wolf said as he jerked the stable door open.

Stalkii was inside, struggling to saddle a horse that shied from his rank smell.

"Leaving, Stalkii?" Wolf asked, stepping into the doorway with his arms crossed.

Stalkii turned quickly, crouched and with a snarl on his unshaven face. His off center eye gleamed whitely in the half muffled light of the lantern hanging from a peg on one of the stalls, and his broken teeth shone behind his pulled-back lips.

"A strange time for a journey," Wolf said dryly.

"Don't interfere with me, old man," Stalkii said, his tone menacing. "You'll regret it."

"I've regretted many things in my life," Wolf said. "I doubt that one more will make all that much difference."

"I warned you." Stalkii warned, and his hand drove under his cloak and emerged with a short, rust-splotched sword.

"Don't be stupid," Wolf said in a tone of overwhelming contempt. Link, however, at the first flash of the sword, whipped his hand to his belt, drew his dagger and stepped in front of the unarmed old man. "Get back, boy," Wolf barked.

But Link had already lunged forward, his bright dagger thrust out ahead of him. Later, when he had time to consider, he could not have explained why he reacted as he did. Some deep instinct seemed to take over.

"Link," Wolf said, "get out of the way!"

"So much the better," Stalkii said, raising his sword.

And then Rusl was there. He appeared as if from nowhere, snatched up an ox yoke and struck the sword from Stalkii's hand. Stalkii turned on him, enraged, and Rusl's second blow took the cast-eyed man in the ribs, a little below the armpit. The breath whooshed from Stalkii's lungs, and he collapsed, gasping and writhing to the straw-littered floor.

"For shame, Link," Rusl said reproachfully. "I didn't make that knife of yours for this kind of thing."

"He was going to kill Mister Wolf," Link protested.

"Never mind that," Wolf said, bending over the gasping man on the floor of the stable. He searched Stalkii roughly and pulled a jingling purse from under the stained tunic. He carried the purse to the lantern and opened it.

"That's mine," Stalkii gasped, trying to rise. Rusl raised the ox yoke, and Stalkii sank back again.

"A sizeable sum for an ordinary farmhand to have, friend Stalkii," Wolf said, pouring the jingling coins from the purse into his hand. "How did you manage to come by it?"

Stalkii glared at him.

Link's eyes grew wide at the sight of the coins. He had never seen gold before.

"You don't really need to answer, friend Stalkii," Wolf said examining one of the coins, "Your gold speaks for you." He dumped the coins back in the purse and tossed the small leather pouch back to the man on the floor. Stalkii grabbed it quickly and pushed it back inside his tunic.

"I'll have to tell Bo of this," Rusl said.

"No," Wolf said.

"It's a serious matter," Rusl said. "A bit of wrestling or a few blows exchanged is one thing, but drawing weapons is quite another."

"There's no time for all of that," Wolf said, taking a piece of harness strap from a peg on the wall. "Bind his hands behind him, and we'll put him in one of the grain bins. Someone will find him in the morning."

Rusl stared at him.

"Trust me, good Rusl," Wolf said. "The matter is urgent. Bind him and hide him someplace; then come to the kitchen. Come with me, Link." And he turned and left the stable.

Aunt Im was pacing her kitchen nervously when they returned.

"Well?" she demanded.

"e was attempting to leave," Wolf said. "We stopped him."

"Did you-?" she left it hanging.

"No. He drew his sword, but Rusl chanced to be nearby and knocked the belligerence out of him. The intervention was timely. Your cub here was about to do battle. That little dagger of his is a pretty thing, but not really much of a match for a sword."

Aunt Im turned on Link, her eyes ablaze. Link stepped back quickly to get out of her reach.

"There's no time for that," Wolf said, retrieving the tankard he had set down before leaving the kitchen. "Brill had a pouch-full of good Gerudo gold. The Loruleians have set eyes to watching this place. I'd wanted to make our going less noticeable, but since we're already being watched, there's no point in that now. Gather what you and the boy will need. I want a few leagues between us and Stalkii before he manages to free himself. I don't want to be looking over my shoulder for the Loruleians every place I go."

Rusl, who had just come into the kitchen, stopped and stood staring at them.

"Things aren't what they seem here," he said. "What manner of folk are you, and how is it that you have such dangerous enemies?"

"That's a long story, good Rusl," Wolf said, "but I'm afraid there's no time to tell it now. Make our apologies to Bo, and see if you can't detain Stalkii for a day or so. I'd like our trail to be quite cold before he or his friends try to find it."

"Someone else is going to have to do that," Rusl said slowly. "I'm not sure what this is all about, but I am sure that there's danger involved in it. It appears that I'll have to go with you - at least until I've gotten you safely away from here."

Aunt Im suddenly laughed.

"You, Rusl? You mean to protect us?"

He drew himself up.

"I'm sorry, Mistress Im," he said. "I will not permit you to go unescorted."

"Will not permit?" she said incredulously.

"Very well," Wolf said, a sly look on his face.

"Have you totally taken leave of your senses?" Aunt Im demanded, turning on him.

"Rusl has shown himself to be a useful man," Wolf said. "If nothing else, he'll give me someone to talk with along the way. Your tongue has grown sharper with the years, Im, and I don't relish the idea of a hundred leagues or more with nothing but abuse for companionship."

"I see that you've finally slipped into your dotage, Old Wolf," she said acidly.

"That's exactly the sort of thing I meant," Wolf replied blandly. "Now gather a few necessary things, and let's be away from here. The night is passing rapidly."

She glared at him a moment then stormed out of the kitchen.

"I'll have to fetch some things too," Rusl said. He turned and went out into the gusty night.

Link's mind whirled. Things were happening far too fast.

"Afraid, boy?" Wolf asked.

"Well-" Link said. "It's just that I don't understand. I don't understand any of this at all."

"You will in time, Link," Wolf said. "For now it's better perhaps that you don't. There's danger in what we're doing, but not all that great a danger. Your Aunt and I - and good Rusl of course - will see that no harm comes to you. Now help me in the pantry." He took a lantern into the pantry and began loading some loaves of bread, a ham, a round yellow cheese and several bottles of wine into a sack which he took down from a peg.

It was nearly midnight, as closely as Link could tell, when they quietly left the kitchen and crossed the dark courtyard. The faint creak of the gate as Rusl swung it open seemed enormously loud.

As they passed through the gate, Link felt a momentary pang. Bo's farm had been the only home he had ever known. He was leaving now, perhaps forever, and such things had great significance. He felt an even sharper pang at the memory of Ilia. The thought of Colin and Ilia together in the hay barn almost made him want to give the whole thing up altogether, but it was far too late now.

Beyond the protection of the buildings, the gusty wind was chill and whipped at Link's cloak. Heavy clouds covered the moon, and the road seemed only slightly less dark than the surrounding fields. It was cold and lonely and more than a little frightening. He walked a bit closer to Aunt Im.

At the top of the hill he stopped and glanced back. Bo's farm was only a pale, dim blur in the valley behind. Regretfully, he turned his back on it. The valley ahead was very dark, and even the road was lost in the gloom before them.

**And a Happy New Year to all! (All as per mentioned in the last chapter has a new meaning. It means 4) **


	7. Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 6

p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; text-align: center;"Part 1 Ordona Chapter 6/p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; text-align: center;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"They had walked for miles, how many Link could no say. He nodded as he walked, and sometimes stumbled over unseen stones on the dark road. More than anything now he wanted to sleep. His eyes burned with exhaustion.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"At the top of another hill - there always seemed to be another kill, for that part of Ordona was folded like a rumpled cloth - Mister Wolf stopped and looked about, this eyes searching the oppressive gloom.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We turn aside from the road here," he announced.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Is that wise?" Rusl asked. "There are woods hereabout, and I've heard that there may be robbers hiding there. Even if there aren't any robbers, aren't we likely to lose our way in the dark?" he looked up at the murky sky, his plain face, dimly seen, troubled. "I wish there was a moon."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I don't think we need to be afraid of robbers," Wolf said confidently, "and I'm just as happy that there isn't a moon. I don't think we're being followed yet, but it's just as well that no one happens to see us pass. Loruleian gold can buy most secrets." And with that he led them into the fields that lay beside the road.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"For Link the fields were impossible. If he had stumbled now and then on the road, the unseen furrows, holes, and clumps in the rough ground seemed to catch at his feet with every step. At the end of a mile, when they reached the black edge of the woods, he was almost ready to weep with exhaustion.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""How can we find our way in there?" he demanded, peering into the utter darkness of the woods.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""There's a woodcutter's track not far to this side," Wolf said, pointing. "We only have a little father to go." And he set off again, following the edge of the dark woods, with Link and the others stumbling along behind him. "Here we are," he said finally, stopping to allow them to catch up. "It's going to be very dark in there, and the track isn't wide. I'll go first, and the rest of you follow me."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I'll be right behind you, Link," Rusl said. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright." There was a note in the smith's voice, however, that hinted that his words were more to reassure himself than to calm the boy.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"It seemed warmer in the woods. The trees sheltered them from the gusty wind, but it was so dark that Link could not understand how Wolf could possibly find his way. A dreadful suspicion grew in his mind that Wolf actually did not know where he was going and was merely floundering along blindly, trusting to luck.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Stop," a rumbling voice suddenly, shockingly, said directly ahead of them. Link's eyes, accustomed slightly now to the gloom of the woods, saw a vague outline of something so huge that it could not possible be a man.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""A giant!" he screamed in a sudden panic. Then, because he was exhausted and because everything that had happened that evening had simply piled too much upon him all at one time, and his nerve broke and he bolted into the trees.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Link!" Aunt Im's voice cried out after him, "come back!"p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"But panic had taken hold of him. He ran on, falling over roots and bushes, crashing into trees and tangling his legs in brambles. It seemed like some endless nightmare of blind flight. He ran full tilt into a low-hanging, unseen branch, and sparks flared before his eyes with the sudden blow to his forehead. He lay on the damp earth, gasping and sobbing, trying to clear his head.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"And then there were hands on him, horrid, unseen hands. A thousand terrors flashed through his mind at once, and he struggled desperately, trying to draw his dagger.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Oh, no," a voice said. "None of that, my rabbit." His dagger was taken from him.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Are you going to eat me?" Link babbled, his voice breaking.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"His captor laughed.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""On your feet, rabbit," he said, and Link felt himself pulled up by a strong hand. His arm was taken in a firm grasp, and he was taken in a firm grasp, and he was half dragged through the woods.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Somewhere ahead there was a light, a winking fire among the trees, and it seemed that he was being taken that way. He knew that he must think, must devise some means of escape, but his mind, stunned by fright and exhaustion, refused to function.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"There were three wagons sitting in a rough half circle around the fire. Rusl was there, and Wolf, and Aunt Im, and with them a man so huge that Link's mind simply refused to accept the possibility that he was real. His tree-trunk sized legs were wrapped with furs cross-tied with leather thongs, and he wore a chain-mail shirt that reached to his knees, belted at the waist. From the belt hung a ponderous sword on one side and a short-handled axe on the other. His hair was in braids, and he had a vast, bristling red beard.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"As they came into the light, Link was able to see the man who had captured him. He was a small man, scarcely taller than Link himself, and his face was dominated by a long pointed nose. His eyes were small, and dark but in the firelight Link swore he saw a flash of red, and his dark blond was raggedly cut. The face was not the sort to inspire confidence, and the man's stained and patched tunic and short, wicked-looking sword did little to contradict the implications of the face.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Here's our rabbit," The small, weasel-like man announced as he pulled Link into the circle of the firelight. "And a merry chase he led me, too."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Aunt Im was furious.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Don't you ever do that again," she said sternly to Link.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Not so quick, Mistress Im," Wolf said. "It's better for him to run than fight just yet. Until he's bigger, his feet are his best friends."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Have we been captured by robber?" Link asked in a quavering voice.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Robbers?" Wolf laughed. "What a wild imagination you have, boy. These two are out friends."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Friends?" Link asked doubtfully, looking suspiciously at the red bearded giant and the weasel-faced man beside him. "Are you sure?" The giant laughed then too, his voice rumbling like an earthquake.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""The boy seems mistrustful," he boomed. "Your face must have warned him, friend Seda."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"The smaller man looked sourly at his burly companion.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""This is Link," Wolf said, pointing at the boy. "You already know Mistress Im." His voice seemed to stress Aunt Im's name. "And this is Rusl, a brave smith who has decided to accompany us."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Mistress Im?" the smaller man said, laughing suddenly for no apparent reason.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I am known so," Aunt Im said pointedly.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""It shall be my pleasure to call you so then, great lady," the small man said with a mocking bow.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Our large friend here is Darunia," Wolf went on. "He's useful to have around when there's trouble. As you can see, he's not an Ordonian, but an Eldin from Val Hyla."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Link had never seen an Eldin before, and the fearful tales of their prowess in battle became suddenly quite believable in the presence of the towering Darunia.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""And I," the small man said with one hand to his chest, "and called Seda - not much of a name, I'll admit, but one which suits me - and I am from Lan Tor in Lanayru. I am a juggler and an acrobat."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""And also a thief and spy," Darunia rumbled good-naturedly.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We all have our faults," Seda admitted blandly, scratching at his scraggly whiskers.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""And I'm called Mister Wolf in this particular time and place," the old man said. "I'm rather fond of the name, since the boy there gave it to me."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Mister Wolf?" Seda asked, and then he laughed again. "What a merry name for you, old friend."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I'm delighted that you find it so, old friend," Wolf said flatly.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Mister Wolf it shall be, then," Seda said. "Come to the fire, friends. Warm yourselves, and I'll see to some food."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Link was still uncertain about the oddly matched pair. They obviously knew Aunt Im and Mister Wolf - and just as obviously by different names. The fact that Aunt Im might not be whom he had always thought she was very disturbing. One of the foundation stones of his entire life had just disappeared.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"The food which Seda brought was rough, a turnip stew with thick chunks of meat floating in it and crudely hacked off slabs of bread, but Link, amazed at the size of his appetite, fell into it as if he had not eaten for days.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"And then, his stomach full and feet warmed by the crackling fire, he sat on a log, half dozing.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""What no, Old Wolf?" he heard Aunt Im ask. "What's the idea behind these clumsy wagons?"p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""A brilliant plan," Wolf said, "even if I do say it myself. There are, as you know, wagons going every which way in Ordona at this time of year. Harvests are moving from field to farm, from farm to village and from village to town. Nothing is more unremarkable in Ordona than wagons. They're so common that they're almost invisible. This is how we're going to travel. We're now honest freight haulers."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We're what?" Aunt Im demanded.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Wagoneers," Wolf said expansively. "Hard-working transporters of the goods of Ordona - out to make our fortunes and seek adventures, bitten by the desire to travel, incurably infected by the romance of the road."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Have you any idea how long it takes to travel by wagon?" Aunt Im asked.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Six to ten leagues a day," he told her. "Slow, I'll grant you, but it's better to move slowly than to attract attention."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"She shook her head in disgust.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Where first, Mister Wolf?" Seda asked.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""To Deryite," Wolf announced. "If the one we're following went to the north, he'll have to have passed through Deryite on his way to Lan Tor and beyond."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""And what exactly are we carrying to Deryite?" Aunt Im asked.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Turnips, great lady," Seda said. "Last morning my large friend and I purchased three wagonloads of them in the village of Winold."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Turnips?" Aunt Im asked in a tone that spoke volumes.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Yes, great lady, turnips," Seda said solemnly.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Are we ready then?" Wolf asked.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We are," the giant Darunia said shortly, rising with his mail shirt clinking.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We should look the part," Wolf said carefully, eyeing Darunia up and down. "Your armor, my friend, is not the sort of garb an honest wagoneer would wear. I think you should change it for stout wool."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Darunia's face looked injured.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I could wear a tunic over it," he suggested tentatively.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""You rattle," Seda pointed out, "and armor has a distinctive fragrance about it. From downwind you smell like a rusty ironworks, Darunia."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I feel undressed without a mail shirt," Darunia complained.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We must all make sacrifices," Seda said.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Grumbling, Darunia went to one of the wagons, jerked out a bundle of clothes and began to pull off his mail shirt. His linen under bore large, reddish rust stains.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I'd change tunics as well," Seda suggested. "Your shirt smells as bad as the armor."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Darunia glowered at him. "Anything else?" He demanded. "I hope, for decency's sake, you don't plan to strip me entirely."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Seda laughed.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Darunia pulled off his tunic. His torso was enormous and covered with thick red hair.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""You look like a rug," Seda observed.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I can't help with that," Darunia said. "Winters are cold in Eldin, and the hair helps me stay warm." He put on a fresh tunic.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""It's just as cold in Lanayru," Seda said. "Are you absolutely sure your grandmother didn't dally with a bear during one of those long winters?"p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Someday your mouth is going to get you into a great deal of trouble, friend Seda," Darunia said ominously.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Seda laughed again. "I've been in trouble most of my life, friend Darunia."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I wonder why."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I think all this could be discussed later," Wolf said pointedly. "I'd rather like to be away from here before the week's out, if I can."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Of course, old friend," Seda said, jumping up. "Darunia and I can amuse each other later,"p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Three teams of sturdy horses were picketed nearby, and they all helped to harness them to the wagons.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We'll lead the horses to the edge of the wood," Wolf said. "I'd rather not pick my teeth on a low branch."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"The horses seemed almost eager to start and moved without urging along a narrow track through the dark woods. They stopped at the edge of the open fields, and Wolf looked around carefully to see if anyone was in sight.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I don't see anybody," he said. "Let's get moving."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Ride with me, good smith," Darunia said to Rusl. "Conversation with an honest man is much preferable to a night spent with enduring the insults of an over-clever Lanaryuian."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Are you wish, friend," Rusl said polietly.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I'll lead," Seda said. "I'm familiar with the back roads and lanes hereabouts. I'll put us on the high road beyond Upper Gralt before noon. Darunia and Rusl can bring up the rear. I'm sure that between them they can discourage anyone who might feel like following us."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""All right," Wolf said, climbing onto the seat of the middle wagon. He reached down his hand and helped up Aunt Im.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Link quickly climed up onto the wagon bed behind them, a trifle nervous that someone might suggest he ride with Seda. It was all very well for Mister Wolf to say that the two they had just met were friends, but the fright he had suffered in the wood was still too fresh in his mind to make him quite comfortable with them.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"The sacks of musty-smelling turnips were lumpy, but Link soon managed to push and shove a kind of half reclining seat for himself among them just behind Aunt Im and Mister Wolf. He was sheltered from the wind, Aunt Im was close, and his cloak, spread over him, kept him warm. He was altogether comfortable, and, despite the excitement of the night's events, he soon drifted into a half drowse. The dry voice in his mind suggested briefly that he had not behaved too well back in the wood, but it too soon fell silent, and Link slept.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"It was the change of sound that woke him. The soft thud of the horses' hooves on the dirt road became a clatter as they came to the cobblestone of a small village sleeping in the last chill hours of the autumn night. Link opened his eyes and looked sleepily at the tall, narrow houses with their tiny windows all dark.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"A dog barked briefly, then retreated back to his warm place under some stairs. Link wondered what village it might be and how many people slept under those steep-peaked tile roofs, unaware of the passage of their three wagons.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"The cobbled street was very narrow, and Link could almost have reached out and touched the weathered stones of the houses as they passed.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"And then the nameless village was behind them and they were back on the road again. The soft sound of the horses' hooves lured him once more toward sleep.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""What if he hasn't passed through Deryite?" Aunt Im asked Mister Wolf in a low tone.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"It occurred to Link that in all the excitement he had never actually found out exactly what it was that they were seeking. He kept his eyes closed and listened.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Don't start with the 'what ifs,'" Wolf said irritably. "If we sit around saying 'what if,' we'll never do anything."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""I was merely asking," Aunt Im said.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""If he hasn't gone through Deryite, we'll turn south - to Mistwatch. He may have joined a caravan there to take the Great North Road to Lan Tor."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""And if he hasn't gone through Mistwatch?"p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""Then we go to Canthor."p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""And then?"p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;""We'll see when we get to Canthor." His tone was final, as if he no longer wished to discuss the matter.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Aunt Im drew in a breath as if she were about to deliver some final retort, but decided against it and settled back on the wagon seat.p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;" p  
>p lang="en-US" style="margin: 0in; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"Dawn had begun touch the lowering clouds, as they moved through the end of the long night in search for something so important it had uprooted Link's entire life in a single day. p 


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